y 



> ^*k^/^£- 





APPLETONS' POPULAR LIBRARY 

OF THE BEST AUTHORS. 



MEN'S WIVES. 



MEN'S WIVES. 



• 



BT 

. i t I - 



WILLIAM M^THACKERAY. 



NEW-YORK : 

D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY. 

1852. 



pSMf^ 






4^srs^ 



r 






PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT. 

The following Papers are republished from 
Frazer's Magazine for the year 1843, where 
they appear, under one of the author's literary 
devices, as the contributions of George Fitz- 
Boodle. 

New- York, September, 1852. 



CONTENTS. 



Mr. and Mrs. Frank Berry. 

I. — The Fight at Slaughter-house, 9 

II. — The Combat at Versailles, . . ■ • 19 

The Ravenswing. 

I. — Which is entirely introductory — Contains an ac- 
count of Miss Crump, her Suitors, and her Fami- 
ly Circle, 43 

II. — In which Mr. "Walker makes three attempts to 

ascertain the Dwelling of Morgiana, . . 71 

III. — What came of Mr. Walker's Discovery of the 

Bootjack, 88 

IV. — In which the Heroine has a number more Lovers, 

and cuts a very Dashing Figure in the World, 102 
V. — In which Mr. Walker falls into Difficulties, and 
Mrs. Walker makes many Foolish Attempts to 

Rescue Him, 128 

VI. — In which Mr. Walker still remains in Difficulties, 
but shows great Resignation under his Misfor- 
tunes, 155 



8 CONTENTS. 

VII. — In which Morgiana advances towards Fame and 
Honour, and in which several great Literary 
Characters make their Appearance, . . 174 
VIII. — In which Mr. Walker shows great Prudence and 

Forbearance, . . . . . . .196 

Dennis Haggarty's Wife, 216 

The 's Wife, 245 



MEN'S WIVES. 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 

CHAPTER L 

THE FIGHT AT SLAUGHTER-HOUSE. 

I am very fond of reading about battles, and have 
most of Marlborough's and Wellington's at my fingers' 
end, but the most tremendous combat I ever saw, and 
one that interests me to think of more than Malplaquet 
or Waterloo (which, by the way, has grown to be a 
downright nuisance, so much do men talk of it after 
dinner, prating most disgustingly about " the Prussians 
coming up," and what not), I say the most tremendous 
combat ever known was that between Berry and Biggs 
the gown-boy, which commenced in a certain place 
called Middle Briars, which is situated in the midst of 
the cloisters that run along the side of the play-ground 
at Slaughter-house School, near Smithfield, London. It 
was there, madam, that your humble servant had the 
honor of acquiring, after six years' labor, that immense 
1* 



10 men's wives. 



fund of classical knowledge which in after life has been 
so exceedingly useful to him. 

The circumstances of the quarrel were these: — 
Biggs, the gown-boy (a man that, in those days, I 
thought was at least seven feet high, and was quite 
thunder-struck to find in after life that he measured no 
more than five feet four), was what we called " second 
cock " of the school ; the first cock was a great, big, 
good-humored, lazy, fair-haired fellow, Old Hawkins by 
name, who, because he was large and good-humored, 
hurt nobody. Biggs, on the contrary, was a sad 
bully ; he had half-a-dozen fags, and beat them all 
unmercifully. Moreover, he had a little brother, a 
boarder in Potky's house, whom, as a matter of course, 
he hated and maltreated worse than any one else. 

Well, one day, because young Biggs had not 
brought his brother his hoops, or had not caught a 
ball at cricket, or for some other equally good reason, 
Biggs the elder so belabored the poor little fellow, that 
Berry, who was sauntering by, and saw the dread- 
ful blows which the elder brother was dealing to the 
younger with his hocky-stick, felt a compassion for the 
little fellow (perhaps he had a jealousy against Biggs, 
and wanted to try a few rounds with him, but that I 
can't vouch for) ; however, Berry passing by, stopped 
and said, " Don't you think you have thrashed the boy 
enough, Biggs V He spoke this in a very civil tone, 
for he never would have thought of interfering rudely 
with the sacred privilege that an upper boy at a public 
school always has of beating a junior, especially when 
they happen to be brothers. 

The reply of Biggs, as might be expected, was to 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 11 

hit young Biggs with the hocky-stick twice as hard as 
before, until the little wretch howled with pain. " I 
suppose it's no business of yours, Berry," said Biggs, 
thumping away all the while, and laid on worse and 
worse. 

Until Berry (and, indeed, little Biggs) could bear it 
no longer, and the former, bouncing forwards, wrenched 
the stick out of old Biggs' hands, and sent it whirling 
out of the cloister window, to the great wonder of a 
crowd of us small boys, who were looking on. Little 
boys always like to see a little companion of their own 
soundly beaten. 

" There !" said Berry, looking into Biggs' face, as 
much as to say, " I've gone and done it ;" and he 
added to the brother, "Scud away, you little thief! I've 
saved you this time." 

" Stop, young Biggs !" roared out his brother, after 
a pause ; "and I'll break every bone in your infernal, 
scoundrelly skin !" 

Young Biggs looked at Berry, then at his brother, 
then came at his brother's order, as if back to be beaten 
again, but lost heart and ran away as fast as his little 
legs could carry him. 

" I'll do for him another time," said Biggs. " Here, 
under boy, take my coat;" and we all began to gather 
round and formed a ring. 

" We had better wait till after school, Biggs," cried 
I3erry, quite cool, but looking a little pale. " There are 
only five minutes now, and it will take you more than 
that to thrash me." 

Biggs upon this committed a great error, for he 
struck Berry slightly across the face with the back of 



12 men's wives. 



his hand, saying, M You are in a fright" But this was 
a feeling which Frank Berry did not in the least enter- 
tain, for in reply to Biggs' back-hander, and as quick 
as thought, and with all his might and main — pong! 
he delivered a blow upon old Biggs' nose that made 
the claret spurt, and sent the second cock down to the 
ground as if he had been shot. 

He was up again, however, in a minute, his face 
white and gashed with blood, his eyes glaring a ghastly 
spectacle; and Berry, meanwhile, had taken his coat 
off, and by this time there were gathered in the clois- 
ters, on all the windows, and upon each other's shoul- 
ders, one hundred and twenty young gentlemen at the 
very least, for the news had gone out through the play- 
ground of " a fight between Berry and Briggs." 

But Berry was quite right in his remark about the 
propriety of deferring the business, for at this minute 
Mr. Chip, the second master, came down the cloisters 
going into school, and grinned in his queer way as he 
saw the state of Biggs' face. "Holloa, Mr. Biggs," 
said he, " I suppose you have run against a finger-post." 
That was the regular joke with us at school, and you 
may be sure we all laughed heartily, as we always 
did when Mr. Chip made a joke, or any thing like a 
joke. " You had better go to the pump, sir, and get 
yourself washed, and not let Dr. Muzzle see you in that 
condition." So saying, Mr. Chip disappeared to his 
duties in the under school, whither all we little boys 
followed him. 

It was Wednesday, a half-holiday, as every body 
knows, and boiled beef day at Slaughter-house. I was 
in the same boarding-house as Berry, and we all looked 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 13 

to see whether he ate a good dinner, just as one would 
examine a man who was going to be hanged. I recol- 
lect, in after life, in Germany, seeing a friend who was 
going to fight a duel, eat five larks for his breakfast, 
and thought I had seldom witnessed greater courage. 
Berry ate moderately of the boiled beef — boiled child 
we used to call it at school, in our elegant, jocular way ; 
he knew a great deal better than to load his stomach 
upon the eve of such a contest as was going to take 
place. 

Dinner was very soon over, and Mr. Chip, who had 
been all the while joking Berry, and pressing him to 
eat, called him up into his study, to the great disap- 
pointment of us all, for we thought he was going to 
prevent the fight, but no such thing. The Rev. Edward 
Chip took Berry into his study, and poured him out 
two glasses of port wine, wdiich he made him take with 
a biscuit, and patted him on the back, and went off. I 
have no doubt he was longing, like all of us, to see the 
battle, but etiquette, you know, forbade. 

When we went out into the green, old Hawkins 
was there — the great Hawkins, the cock of the school. 
I have never seen the man since, but still think of him as 
of something awful, gigantic, mysterious ; he who could 
thrash every body, who could beat all the masters : how 
we longed for him to put in his hand and lick Muzzle ! 
He was a dull boy, not very high in the school, and 
had all his exercises written for him. Muzzle knew 
this, but Muzzle respected him, never called him up to 
read Greek plays ; passed over all his blunders, which 
were many ; let him go out of half-holidays into the 
town as he pleased ; how should any man dare to stop 



14 men's wives. 



him — the great, calm, magnanimous, silent Strength ! 
They say he licked a Life-Guardsman, I wonder whether 
it was Shaw, who killed all those Frenchmen ? no, it 
couldn't be Shaw, for he was dead au champ d'hon- 
neur ; but he would have licked Shaw if he had been 
alive. A bargeman I know he licked, at Jack Randall's 
in Slaughter-house Lane. Old Hawkins was too lazy to 
play at cricket ; he sauntered all day in the sunshine 
about the green, accompanied by little Tippins, who 
was in the sixth form, laughed and joked at Hawkins 
eternally, and was the person who wrote all his exercises. 

Instead of going into town this afternoon, Hawkins 
remained at Slaughter-house to see the great fight 
between the second and third cocks. 

The different masters of the school kept boarding- 
houses (such as Potky's, Chip's, Wicken's, Pinney's 
and so on), and the play-ground, or "green," as it was 
called, although the only thing green about the place 
was the broken glass on the walls that separate Slaugh- 
ter-house from Wilderness Row and G-oswell Street. 
(Many a time have I seen Mr. Pickwick look out of his 
window in that street, though w 7 e did not know him 
then.) The play-ground, or green, was common to ail. 
But if any stray boy from Potky's was found, for in- 
stance, in, or entering into, Chip's house, the most 
dreadful tortures were practised upon him, as I can 
answer in my own case. 

Fancy, then, our astonishment at seeing a little 
three-foot wretch, of the name of Wills, one of Haw- 
kins's fags (they were both in Potky's), walk undis- 
mayed amongst us lions at Chip's house, as the " rich 
and rare" young lady did in Ireland. We were going 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 15 

to set upon him and devour or otherwise maltreat him, 
when he cried out in a little, shrill, impertinent voice, 
" Tell Berry I want him" 

We all roared with laughter. Berry was in the 
sixth form, and Wills or any under boy would as soon 
have thought of " wanting " him, as I should of want- 
ing the Duke of Wellington. 

Little Wills looked round in an imperious kind of 
way. "Well," says he, stamping his foot, "do you 
hear ? Tell Berry that Hawkins wants him" 

As for resisting the law of Hawkins, you might as 
soon think of resisting immortal Jove. Berry and Tol- 
rnash, who was to be his bottle-holder, made their ap- 
pearance immediately, and walked out into the green 
where Hawkins was waiting, and, with an irresistible 
audacity that only belonged to himself, in the face of 
nature and all the regulations of the place, was smok- 
ing a cigar. When Berry and Tolmash found him, 
the three began slowly pacing up and down in the sun- 
shine, and we little boys watched them. 

Hawkins moved his arms and hands every now and 
then, and was evidently laying down the law about 
boxing. We saw his fists darting out every now and 
then with mysterious swiftness, hitting one, two, quick 
as thought, as if in the face of an adversary ; now his 
left hand went up, as if guarding his own head, now 
his immense right fist dreadfully flapped the air, as if 
punishing his imaginary opponent's miserable ribs. 
The conversation lasted for some ten minutes, about 
which time gown-boys' dinner was over, and we saw 
these youths in their black, horned-button jackets and 
knee-breeches, issuing from their door in the cloisters. 



16 men's wives. 



There were no hoops, no cricket-bats, as usual on a 
half- holiday. Who would have thought of play in ex- 
pectation of such tremendous sport as was in store 
for us ? 

Towering among the gown-boys, of whom he was 
the head and the tyrant, leaning upon Bushby's arm, 
and followed at a little distance by many curious, pale, 
awe-stricken boys, dressed in his black silk stockings, 
which he always sported, and with a crimson bandanna 
tied round his waist, came Biggs. His nose was swol- 
len with the blow given before school, but his eyes 
flashed fire. He was laughing and sneering with 
Bushby, and evidently intended to make minced meat 
of Berry. 

The betting began pretty freely : the bets were 
against poor Berry. Five to three were offered — in 
ginger-beer. I took six to four in raspberry open tarts. 
The upper boys carried the thing farther still ; and I 
know for a fact, that Swang's book amounted to four 
pound three (but he hedged a good deal), and Tittery 
lost seventeen shillings in a single bet to Pitts, who 
took the odds. 

As Biggs and his party arrived, I heard Hawkins 
say to Berry, " For Heaven's sake, my boy, fib with 
with your right, and mind his left hand /" 

Middle Briars was voted to be too confined a space 
for the combat, and it was agreed that it should take 
place behind the under-school in the shade, whither we 
all went. Hawkins, with his immense silver hunting- 
watch, kept the time ; and water was brought from the 
pump close to Notley's the pastry-cook's, who did not 
admire fistycuffs at all on half- holidays, for the fights 



MR. AND MRS. PRANK BERRY. 17 

kept the boys away from his shop. Gutley was the 
only fellow in the school who remained faithful to him, 
and he sat on the counter — the great gormandising 
beast ! — eating tarts the whole day. 

This famous fight, as every Slaughter-house man 
knows, lasted for two hours and twenty-nine minutes, 
by Hawkins's immense watch. All this time the air 
resounded with cries of " Go it, Berry ! Go it, Biggs ! 
Pitch into him ! Give it him !" and so on. Shall I 
describe the hundred and two rounds of the combat ? — 
No ! — Fraser must publish a supplement, and the taste 
for such descriptions has passed away.* 

1st round. Both the combatants fresh, and in 
prime order. The weight and inches somewhat on 
the gown-boy's side. Berry goes gallantly in, and 
delivers a clinker on the gown-boy's jaw. Biggs 
makes play with his left. Berry down. 

* % % * 

4th round. Claiet drawn in profusion from the 
gown-boy's grog-shop. (He went down, and spit his 
front tooth into a pewter basin at the end of this round, 
but the blow cut Berry's knuckles a great deal.) 

* # * % 

15th round. Chancery. Fibbing. Biggs makes 
dreadful work with his left. Break away. Rally. 
Biggs down. Betting still six to four on the gown- 
boy. 



* As it is very probable that many fair readers may not 
approve of the extremely forcible language in which the com- 
bat is depicted, I beg them to skip it and pass on to the next 
chapter, and to remember that it has been modelled on the 
style of the very best writers of the sporting papers. 



18 men's wives. 



20th round. The men both dreadfully punished. 
Berry somewhat shy of his adversary's left hand. 

* * ' * * 

29th to 42d round. The Chipsite all this while 
breaks away from the gown-boy's left, and goes down 
on a knee. Six to four on the gown-boy, until the 
fortieth round, when the bets became equal. 

102d and last round. For half-an-hour the men 
had stood up to each other, but were almost too weary 
to strike. The gown-boy's face hardly to be recognized, 
swollen and streaming with blood. The Chipsite in a 
similar condition, and still more punished about the 
side from his enemy's left hand. Berry gives a blow 
at his adversary's face, and falls over him as he falls. 

The gown boy can't come up to time. And thus 
ended the great fight of Berry and Biggs. 

* % % % 

* % * - * 

And what, pray, has this horrid description of a 
battle and a parcel of school-boys to do with MerCs 
Wives, the title at the head of this paper ? 

What has it to do with Men's Wives ? — A great 
deal more, madam, than you think for. Only read 
Chapter II., and you shall hear. 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 19 



CHAPTER II. 

THE COMBAT AT VERSAILLES. 

I afterwards came to be Berry's fag, and, though 
beaten by him daily, he allowed, of course, no one else 
to lay a hand upon me, and I got no more thrashing 
than was good for me. Thus an intimacy grew up 
between us, and after he left Slaughter-house and went 
into the dragoons, the honest fellow did not forget his 
old friend, but actually made his appearance one day 
in the playground in mustachios and a braided coat, 
and gave me a gold pencil-case and a couple of sove- 
reigns. I blushed when I took them, but take them I 
did ; and I think the thing I almost best recollect in 
my life, is the sight of Berry getting behind an im- 
mense bay cab-horse, which was held by a correct little 
groom, and was waiting near the school in Slaughter- 
house Square. He proposed, too, to have me to 
Long's, where he was lodging for the time ; but this 
invitation was refused in my behalf by Dr. Muzzle, who 
said, and possibly with correctness, that I should get 
little good by spending my holiday with such a scape- 
grace. 

Once afterwards he came to see me at Christchurch, 
and we made a show of writing to one another, and 
didn't, and always had a hearty mutual good-will ; and 
though we did not quite burst into tears on parting, 
were yet quite happy when occasion threw us together, 



20 men's wives. 



and' so almost lost sight of each other. I heard lately 
that Berry was married, and am rather ashamed to 
say, that I was not so curious as even to ask the 
maiden name of his lady. 

Last summer I was at Paris, and had gone over to 
Versailles to meet a party, one of which was a young 
lady to whom I was tenderly * * * * * * 
But, never mind. The day was rainy, and the party 
did not keep its appointment ; and after yawning 
through the interminable palace picture-galleries, and 
then making an attempt to smoke a cigar in the palace- 
garden — for which crime I was nearly run through the 
body by a rascally sentinel — I was driven, perforce, into 
the great, bleak, lonely Place before the palace, with its 
roads branching off to all the towns in the world, which 
Louis and Napoleon once intended to conquer, and 
there enjoyed my favourite pursuit at leisure, and was 
meditating whether I should go back to Vefour's for 
dinner, or patronise my friend M. Duboux of the Hotel 
des Reservoirs, who gives not only a good dinner, but 
as dear a one as heart can desire. I was, I say, medi- 
tating these things, when a carriage passed by. It was 
a smart, low calash, with a pair of bay horses and a 
postillion in a drab jacket, that twinkled with innu- 
merable buttons ; and I was too much occupied in ad- 
miring the build of the machine, and the extreme 
tightness of the fellow's inexpressibles, to look at the 
personages within the carriage, when the gentleman 
roared out " Fitz !" and the postillion pulled up, and 
the lady gave a shrill scream, and a little black-muz- 
zled spaniel began barking and yelling with all his 
might, and a man with moustachios jumped out of the 
vehicle, and began shaking me by the hand. 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 21 

" Drive home, John," said the gentleman ; " I'll be 
with you, my love, in an instant — it's an old friend. 
Fitz, let me present you to Mrs. Berry." 

The lady made an exceedingly gentle inclination of 
her black velvet bonnet, and said, " Pray, my love, re- 
member that it is just dinner-time. However, never 
mind me? And with another slight toss and a nod to 
the postillion, that individual's white leather breeches 
began to jump up and down again in the saddle, and 
the carriage disappeared, leaving me shaking my old 
friend Berry by the hand. 

He had long quitted the army, but still wore his 
military beard, which gave to his fair pink face a fierce 
and lion-like look. He was extraordinarily glad to see 
me, as only men are glad who live in a small town, or 
in dull company, There is no destroyer of friendships 
like London, where a man has no time to think of his 
neighbour, and has far too many friends to care for 
them. He told me in a breath of his marriage, and 
how happy he was, and straight insisted that I must 
come home to dinner, and see more of Angelica, who 
had invited me herself — didn't I hear her ? 

" Mrs. Berry asked you, Frank, but I certainly did 
not hear her ask me /" 

" She would not have mentioned the dinner but 
that she meant me to ask you. I know she did," cried 
Frank Berry. " And, besides — hang it — I'm master of 
the house. So come you shall. JSTo ceremony, old 
boy — one or two friends — snug family party — and we'll 
talk of old times over a bottle of claret." 

There did not seem to me to be the slightest ob- 
jection to this arrangement, except that my boots were 



22 men's wives. 



muddy, and my coat of the morning sort. But as it 
was quite impossible to go to Paris and back again in 
a quarter of an hour, and as a man may dine with per- 
fect comfort to himself in a frock-coat, it did not occur 
to me to be particularly squeamish, or to decline an old 
friend's invitation upon a pretext so trivial. 

Accordingly we walked to a small house in the 
Avenue de Paris, and were admitted first into a small 
garden ornamented by a grotto, a fountain, and several 
nymphs in plaster of Paris, then up a mouldy old steep 
stair into a hall, where a statue of Cupid and another 
of Venus welcomed us with their eternal simper ; then 
through a salle-a-manger, where covers were laid for 
six ; and finally to a little salon, where Fido the dog 
began to howl furiously according to his wont. 

It was one of the old pavilions that had been built 
for a pleasure-house in the gay days of Versailles, or- 
namented with abundance of damp Cupids and cracked 
gilt cornices, and old mirrors let into the walls, and 
gilded once, but now painted a dingy French white. 
The long low windows looked into the court where the 
fountain played its ceaseless dribble, surrounded by nu- 
merous rank creepers and weedy flowers, but in the 
midst of which the statues stood with their bases quite 
moist and green. 

I hate fountains and statues in dark, confined 
places, that cheerless, endless plashing of water is the 
most inhospitable sound ever heard. The stifF grin of 
those French statues, or ogling Canova Graces, is by no 
means more happy, I think, than the smile of a skele- 
ton, and not so natural. Those little pavilions in which 
the old roues sported, were never meant to be seen by 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 23 

daylight, depend on't. They were lighted up with a 
hundred wax-candles, and the little fountain yonder 
was meant only to cool that claret. And so, my first 
impression of Berry's place of abode was rather a dis- 
mal one. However, I heard him in the salle-a-manger 
drawing the corks which went of with a cloop, and that 
consoled me. 

As for the furniture of the rooms appertaining to 
the Berrys, there was a harp in a leather case, and a 
piano, and a flute-box, and a huge tambour with a 
Saracen's nose just begun, and likewise on the table a 
multiplicity of those little gilt books half sentimental 
and half religious, which the wants of the age and of 
our young ladies have produced in such numbers of 
late. I quarrel with no lady's taste in that way ; but 
heigho ! I had rather that Mrs. Fitz-Boodle should read 
Humphrey Clinker ! 

Besides these works, there was a Peerage, of course. 
What genteel family was ever without one ? 

I was making for the door to see Frank drawing 
the corks, and was bounced at by the amiable little 
black-muzzled spaniel, who fastened his teeth in my 
pantaloons, and received a polite kick in consequence, 
which sent him howling to the other end of the room, 
and the animal was just in the act of performing that 
feat of agility, when the door opened and madame made 
her appearance. Frank came behind her peering over 
her shoulder with rather an anxious look. 

Mrs. Berry is an exceedingly white and lean person. 
She has thick eyebrows which meet rather dangerously 
over her nose, which is Grecian, and a small mouth 
with no lips — a sort of feeble pucker in the face, as it 



24 

were. Under her eyebrows are a pair of enormous 
eyes, w r hich she is in the habit of turning constantly 
ceilingwards. Her hair is rather scarce and worn in 
bandeaux, and she commonly mounts a sprig of laurel, 
or a dark flower or two, which, with the sham-tour — I 
believe that is the name of the knob of artificial hair 
that many ladies sport — gives her a rigid and classical 
look. She is dressed in black, and has invariably the 
neatest of silk stockings and shoes ; for forsooth her foot 
is a fine one, and she always sits with it before her, 
looking at it, stamping it, and admiring it a great deal. 
" Fido," she says to her spaniel, "you have almost 
crushed my poor foot ;•' or, " Frank," to her husband, 
" bring me a foot-stool ;" or, " I suffer so from cold in 
the feet," and so forth ; but be the conversation what it 
will, she is always sure to put her foot into it. 

She invariably wears on her neck the miniature of 
her late father, Sir George Catacomb, apothecary to 
George III. ; and she thinks those two men the greatest 
the world ever saw. She was born in Baker Street, 
Portman Square, and that is saying almost enough of 
her. She is as long, as genteel, and as dreary, as that 
deadly-lively place, and sports, by way of ornament, her 
papa's hatchment, as it were, as every tenth Baker 
Street house has taught her. 

What induced such a jolly fellow as Frank Berry 
to marry Miss Angelica Catacomb no one can tell. He 
met her, he says, at a ball at Hampton Court, where 
his regiment was quartered," and where, to this day, 
lives "her aunt Lady Pash." She alludes perpetually 
in conversation to that celebrated lady ; and if you look 
in the Baronetage to the pedigree of the Pash family, 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 25 

you may see manuscript notes by Mrs. Frank Berry, 
relative to them and herself. Thus, when you see in 
print that Sir John Pash married Angelica, daughter of 
Graves Catacomb, Esq., in a neat hand you find writ- 
ten, and sister of the late Sir George Catacomb, of 
Baker Street, Portman Square ; "A. B." follows of 
course. It is a wonder how fond ladies are of writing 
in books and signing their charming initials ! Mrs. 
Berry's before-mentioned little gilt books are scored 
with pencil-marks, or occasionally at the margin with a ! 
— note of interjection, or the words " too true, A. JB" 
and so on. Much may be learned with regard to lovely 
women by a look at the books she reads in ; and I had 
gained no inconsiderable knowledge of Mrs. Berry by 
the ten minutes spent in the drawing-room, while she 
was at her toilet in the adjoining bed-chamber. 

" You have often heard me talk of George Fitz," 
says Berry, with an appealing look to madame. 

" Very often," answered his lady, in a tone which 
clearly meant "a great deal too much." "Pray, sir," 
continued she, looking at my boots with all her might, 
" are we to have your company at dinner ?" 

" Of course you are, my dear ; what else do you 
think he came for ? You would not have the man go 
back to Paris to get his evening coat, would you ?" 

" At least, my love, I hope you will go and put on 
yours, and change those muddy boots. Lady Pash will 
be here in five minutes, and you know Dobus is as 
punctual as clock-work." Then turning to me with a 
sort of apology that was as consoling as a box on the 
ear, " We have some friends at dinner, sir, who are 
rather particular persons ; but T am sure when they 
2 



26 men's wives. 



hear that you only came on a sudden invitation, they 
will excuse your morning-dress. — Bah, what a smell 
of smoke !" 

With this speech madame placed herself majestically 
on a sofa, put out her foot, called Ficlo, and relapsed 
into an icy silence. Frank had long since evacuated 
the premises, with a rueful look at his wife, but never 
daring to cast a glance at me. I saw the whole busi- 
ness at once; here was this lion of a fellow tamed 
down by a she Van Amburgh, and fetching and carry- 
ing at her orders a great deal more obediently than her 
little yowling black-muzzled darling of a Fido. 

I am not, however, to be tamed so easily, and was 
determined in this instance not to be in the least dis- 
concerted, or to show the smallest sign of ill-humor : so 
to renouer the conversation, I began about Lady Pash. 

" I heard you mention the name of Pash, I think," 
said I ; "I know a lady of that name, and a very ugly 
one it is too." 

"It is most probably not the same person," an- 
swered Mrs. Berry, with a look which intimated that a 
fellow like me could never have had the honor to know 
so exalted a person. 

" I mean old Lady Pash of Hampton Court. Fat 
woman — fair, ain't she — and wears an amethyst in 
her forehead, has one eye, a blond wig % , and dresses in 
light green ?" 

" Lady Pash, sir, is my aunt," answered Mrs. Berry 
(not altogether displeased, although she expected money 
from the old lady ; but you know we love to hear our 
friends abused when it can be safely done). 

" O indeed ! she was a daughter of old Catacomb's 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 27 

of Windsor, I remember, the undertaker. They called 
her husband Callipash, and her ladyship Pishpash. So 
you see, madam, that I know the whole family !" 

" Mr. Fitzsimons !" exclaimed Mrs. Berry, rising, 
" I am not accustomed to hear nick-names applied to 
myself and my family ; and must beg you, when you 
honor us with your company, to spare our feelings as 
much as possible. Mr. Catacomb had the confidence of 
his sovereign, sir, and Sir John Pash was of Charles 
II.'s creation. The one was my uncle, sir, the other 
my grandfather !" 

" My dear madam, I am extremely sorry, and most 
sincerely apologize for my inadvertence. But you owe 
me an apology too ; my name is not Fitz-Simons but 
Fitz-Boodle." 

" What ! of Boodle Hall — my husband's old 
friend ; of Charles L's creation ? My dear sir, I beg 
you a thousand pardons, and am delighted to welcome 
a person of whom I have heard Frank say so much. 
Frank (to Berry, who soon entered in very glossy boots 
and a white waistcoat), do you know, darling, I mistook 
Mr. Fitz-Boodle for Mr. Fitz-Simons — that horrid Irish 
horse-dealing person ; and I never, never, never can 
pardon myself for being so rude to him." 

The big eyes here assumed an expression that was 
intended to kill me outright with kindness — from 
being calm, still, reserved, Angelica suddenly became 
gay, smiling, confidential, and foldtre. She told me 
she had heard I was a sad creature, and that she 
intended to reform me, and that I must come and see 
Frank a great deal. 

Now, although Mr. Fitz-Simons, for whom I was 



28 men's wives. 



mistaken, is as low a fellow as ever came out of Dublin, 
and having been a captain in somebody's army, is now 
a black-leg and horse-dealer by profession ; yet if I 
had brought him home to Mrs. Fitz-Boodle to dinner, I 
should have liked far better that that imaginary lady 
should have received him with decent civility, and not 
insulted the stranger within her husband's gates. And, 
although it was delightful to be received so cordially 
when the mistake was discovered, yet I found that all 
Berry's old acquaintances were by no means so warmly 
welcomed ; for another old school-chum presently made 
his appearance, who was treated in a very different 
manner. 

This was no other than poor Jack Butts, who is a 
sort of small artist and picture-dealer by profession, and 
was a day-boy at Slanghter-house when we were there, 
and very serviceable in bringing in sausages, pots of 
pickles, and other articles of merchandise, which we 
could not otherwise procure. The poor fellow has been 
employed, seeniingty, in the same office of fetcher and 
carrier ever since ; and occupied that post for Mrs. 
Berry. It was, " Mr. Butts, have you finished that 
drawing for Lady Pash's album ?" and Butts produced 
it ; and, " Did you match the silk for me at Delille's ?" 
and there was the silk, bought, no doubt, with the poor 
fellow's last five francs ; and, " Did you go to the 
furniture man in the Rue St. Jacques ; and bring the 
canary-seed, and call about my shawl at that odious 
dawdling Madame Fichet's ; and have you brought the 
guitar-strings V 

Butts hadn't brought the guitar-strings ; and there- 
upon Mrs. Berry's countenance assumed the same terri- 



to 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 29 

ble expression which I had formerly remarked in it, and 
which made me tremble for Berry. 

"My dear Angelica, though," said he with some 
spirit, " Jack Butts isn't a baggage-wagon, nor a Jack- 
of-all-trades, you make him paint pictures for your 
women's albums, and look after your upholsterer, and 
your canary-bird, and your milliners, and turn rusty 
because he forgets your last message." 

" I did not turn rusty, Frank, as you call it ele- 
gantly. I'm very much obliged to Mr. Butts for per- 
forming my commissions — very much obliged. And 
as for not paying for the pictures to which you so 
kindly allude, Frank, / should never have thought of 
offering payment for so paltry a service ; but I'm sure 
I shall be happy to pay if Mr. Butts will send me in 
his bill." 

" By Jove, Angelica, this is too much !" bounced 
out Berry ; but the little matrimonial squabble was 
abruptly ended, by Berry's French man flinging open 
the door and announcing Miladi Pash and Doctor 
Dobus, which two personages made their appearance. 

The person of old Pash has been already paren- 
thetically described. But quite different from her dismal 
niece in temperament, she is as jolly an old widow as 
ever w r ore weeds. She was attached somehow to the 
court, and has a multiplicity of stories about the prin- 
cesses and the old king, to w 7 hich Mrs. Berry never fails 
to call your attention in her grave, important way. 
Lady Pash has ridden many a time to the Windsor 
hounds: she made her husband become a member of 
the four-in-hand club, and has numberless stories about 



30 men's wives. 



Sir Godfrey Webster, Sir John Lade, and the old heroes 
of those times. She has lent a rouleau to Dick Sheridan, 
and remembers Lord Byron when he was a sulky slim 
young lad. She says Charles Fox was the pleasantest 
fellow she ever met with, and has not the slightest 
objection to inform you that one of the princes was very 
much in love with her. Yet somehow she is only fifty- 
two years old, and I have never been able to understand 
her calculation. One day or other before her eye went 
out, and before those pearly teeth of hers were stuck to 
her gums by gold, she must have been a pretty-looking 
body enough. Yet in spite of the latter inconvenience, 
she eats and drinks too much every day, and tosses off 
a glass of maraschino with a trembling, pudgy hand, 
every finger of which twinkles with a dozen, at least, of 
old rings. She has a story about every one of those 
rings, and a stupid one too. But there is always some- 
thing pleasant, I think, in stupid family stories : they 
are good-hearted people who tell them. 

As for Mrs. Muchit, nothing need be said of her : 
she is Pash's companion, she has lived with Lady Pash 
since the peace. JSTor does my lady take any more 
notice of her than of the dust of the earth. She calls 
her "poor Muchit," and considers her a half-witted 
creature. Mrs. Berry hates her cordially, and thinks 
she is a designing toad-eater, who has formed a con- 
spiracy to rob her of her aunt's fortune. She never 
spoke a word to poor Muchit during the whole of din- 
ner, or offered to help her to any thing on the table. 

In respect to Dobus, he is an old Peninsular man, 
as you are made to know before you have been very 



MK. AND MHS. FRANK BERRY. 31 

long in his company ; and, like most army surgeons, is 
a great deal more military in his looks and conversation 
than the combatant part of the forces. He has adopted 
the sham-Duke-of- Wellington air, which is by no means 
uncommon in veterans ; and though one of the easiest 
and softest fellows in existence, speaks slowly and brie%, 
and raps out an oath or two occasionally, as it is said a 
certain great captain does. Besides the above, we sat 
down to table with Captain Goff, late of the — High- 
landers ; the Rev. Lemuel Whe} r , who preaches at St. 
Germains ; little Cutler, and the Frenchman, who al- 
ways will be at English parties on the Continent, and 
who, after making some frightful efforts to speak En- 
glish, subsides and is heard of no more. Young mar- 
ried ladies and heads of families generally have him for 
the purpose of waltzing, and in return he informs his 
friends of the club or the cafe that he has made the 
conquest of a charmdnte Anglaise. Listen to me, all 
family men who read this ! and never let an unmarried 
Frenchman into your doors. This lecture alone is worth 
the price of the whole paper. It is not that they do any 
harm in one case out of a thousand, Heaven forbid ! 
but they mean harm. They look on our Susannahs 
with unholy, dishonest eyes. Hearken to two of the 
grinning rogues chattering together as they clink over 
the asphalte of the Boulevard with lacquered boots, and 
plastered hair, and waxed moustachios, and turned-down 
shirt-collars, and stays and goggling eyes, and hear how 
they talk of a good, simple, giddy, vain, dull, Baker 
Street creature, and canvas her points, and show her 
letters, and insinuate — never mind, but I tell you my 
soul grows angry when I think of the same ; and I 



32 men's wives. 

can't hear of an Englishwoman marrying a Frenchman 
without feeling a sort of shame and pity for her.* 

To return to the guests. The Bev. Lemuel Whey 
is a tea-party man, with a curl on his forehead and ?- 
scented pocket-handkerchief. He ties his white neck 
cloth to a wonder, and I believe sleeps in it. He brings 
his flute with him ; and prefers Handel, of course ; but 
has one or two pet profane songs of the sentimental 
kind, and will occasionally lift up his little pipe in 9 
glee. He does not dance, but the honest fellow would 
give the world to do it ; and he leaves his clogs in the 
passage, though it is a wonder he wears them, for in th< 
muddiest weather he never has a speck on his foot 
He was at St. John's College, Cambridge, and wa? 
rather gay for a term or two, he says. He is, in a 
word, full of the milk-and-water of human kindness, and 
his family lives near Hackney. 

As for Goff, he has a huge shining bald forehead, 
and immense bristling Indian-red whiskers. He wears 
white wash-leather gloves, drinks fairly, likes a rubber 
and has a story for after dinner, beginning, " Doctor, ye 
racklackt Saundy M'Lellan, who joined us in the Wast 
Indies. Wal, sir," &c. These and little Cutler mad^ 
up the party. 

* Every person who has lived abroad, cao, of course, point 
out a score of honourable exceptions to the case above hinted at 
and knows many such unions in which it is the Frenchman who 
honours the English lady by marrying her. But it must be remem- 
bered that marrying in France means commonlyfortune-kwitincf ; 
and as for the respect in which marriage is held in France, let all 
the French novels in M. Rolandi's library be perused by those 
who wish to come to a decision upon the question. The nation 
has repealed the seventh commandment. 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 33 

Now it may not have struck all readers, but any 
sharp fellow conversant with writing must have found 
out long ago, that if there had been something exceed- 
ingly interesting to narrate with regard to this dinner at 
Frank Berry's, I should have come out with it a couple 
of pages since, nor have kept the public looking for so 
Jong a time at the dish-covers and ornaments of the 
table. 

But the simple fact must now be told, that there 
was nothing of the slightest importance occurred at this 
repast, except that it gave me an opportunity of study- 
ing Mrs. Berry in many different ways, and in spite of 
the extreme complaisance which she now showed me, 
and of forming, I am sorry to say, a most unfavorable 
opinion of that fair lady; for, truth to tell, I would 
much rather she should have been civil to Mrs. Muchit, 
than outrageously complimentary to your humble ser- 
vant ; and, as she professed not to know what on earth 
there was for dinner, would it not have been much more 
natural for her not to frown, and bob, and wink, and 
point, and pinch her lips as often as Monsieur Anatole, 
her French domestic, not knowing the ways of English 
dinner-tables, placed any thing out of its due order ? 
The allusions to Boodle Hall were innumerable, and I 
don't know any greater bore than to be obliged to talk 
of a place which belongs to one's elder brother. Many 
questions were likewise asked about the dowager and 
her Scotch relatives, the Plumduffs, about whom Lady 
Pash knew a great deal, having seen them at court and 
at Lord Melville's. Of course she had seen them at 
court and at Lord Melville's, as she might have seen 
thousands of Scotchmen beside ; but what mattered it 
2* 



34 men's wives. 



to me, who care not a jot for old Lady Fitz-Boodle ? 
" When you write, you'll say you met an old friend of 
her ladyship's," says Mrs. Berry, and I faithfully prom- 
ised I would when I wrote ; but if the New Post-Office 
paid us for writing letters (as very possibly it will soon), 
I could not be bribed to send a line to old Lady Fitz. 

In a word I found that Berry, like many simple 
fellows before him, had made choice of an imperious, 
ill-humoured, and under-bred female for a wife, and 
could see with half an eye that he was a great deal too 
much her slave. 

The struggle was not over yet, however. "Witness 
that little encounter before dinner; and once or twice 
the honest fellow replied rather smartly during the 
repast, taking especial care to atone as much as possible 
for his wife's inattention to Jack and Mrs. Muchit, by 
particular attention to those personages, whom he 
helped to every thing round about and pressed perpetu- 
ally to champagne; he drank but little himself, for his 
amiable wife's eye was constantly fixed on him. 

Just at the conclusion of the dessert, madame, who 
had houded Berry during dinner-time, became particu- 
larly gracious to her lord and master, and tenderly 
asked me if I did not think the French custom was a 
good one, of men leaving table with the ladies. 

" Upon my word, ma'am," says I, " I think it's n 
most abominable practice." 

"And so do I," says Cutler. 

" A most abominable practice ! Do you hear that V 
cries Berry, laughing, and filling his glass. 

" I'm sure, Frank, when we are alone you always 
come to the drawing-room," replies the lady, sharply. 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 35 

u Oh, yes ! when we're alone, darling," says Berry, 
blushing ; " but now we're not alone — ha, ha ! Anatole, 
<lu Bordeaux !" 

" I'm sure they sat after the ladies at Carlton House ; 
didn't they, Lady Pash ?" says Dobus, who likes his 
glass. 

" That they did !" say my lady, giving him a jolly 
nod. 

"I racklackt," exclaims Captain Goff, "when I was 
in the Mauritius, that Mu stress MacWhirter, who com- 
manded the Saxty-Sackond, used to say, ' Mac, if ye 
want to get lively, ye'll not stop for more than two hours 
after the leddies have laft ye: if ye want to get drunk, 
ye'll just dine at the mass.' So ye see, Mestress Burry, 
what was Mac's allowance — haw, haw ! Mester Whey, 
I'll trouble ye for the o-lives." 

But although we were in a clear majority, that in- 
domitable woman, Mrs. Berry, determined to make us 
all as uneasy as possible, and would take the votes all 
round. Poor Jack, of course, sided with her, and Whey 
said he loved a cup of tea and a little music better than 
all the wine of Bordeaux. As for the Frenchman, when 
Mrs. Berry said, "And what do you think, M. le 
Vicomte ?" 

" Vat you speak ?" said M. de Blagueval, breaking 
silence for the first time during two hours ; " yase — eh \ 
to me you speak ?" 

" Apry deeny, aimy voo ally avec les dam F* 

" Comment avec les dames V 

" Ally avec les dam com a Parry, ou resty avec les 
Messew com on Onglyterre?" 

" Ah, madame ! vous me le demandez V cries the 



36 men's wives. 



little wretch, starting up in a theatrical way ; and, 
putting out his hand, which Mrs. Berry took, and with 
this the ladies left the room. Old Lady Pash trotted 
after her niece with her hand in Whey's, very much 
wondering at such practices which were not in the least 
in vogue in the reign of George III. 

Mrs. Berry cast a glance of triumph at her husband, 
at the defection ; and Berry was evidently annoyed that 
three-eighths of his male forces had left him. 

But fancy our delight and astonishment, when in a 
minute they all three came back again ; the Frenchman 
looking entirely astonished, and the parson and the 
painter both very queer. The fact is, old downright 
Lady Pash, who had never been in Paris in her life 
before, and had no notion of being deprived of her usual 
hour's respite and nap, said at once to Mrs. Berry, " My 
dear Angelica, you're surely not going to keep these 
three men here ? Send them back to the dining-room, 
for I've a thousand things to say to you." And Angelica, 
who expects to inherit her aunt's property, of course did 
as she was bid ; on which the old lady fell into an easy 
chair, and fell asleep immediately, — so soon, that is, as 
the shout caused by the reappearance of the three gen- 
tlemen in the dining-room had subsided. 

I had meanwhile had some private conversation 
with little Cutler regarding the character of Mrs. Berry. 
" She's a regular screw," whispered he ; a regular tartar. 
Berry shows fight, though, sometimes, and I've known 
him have his own way for a week together. After din- 
ner he is his own master, and hers when he has had 
his share of wine ; and that's why she will never allow 
him to drink any." 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 37 

Was it a wicked or was it a noble and honourable 
thought which came to us both at the same minute, to 
rescue Berry from his captivity ? The ladies, of course, 
will give their verdict according to their gentle natures ; 
but I know what men of courage will think, and by 
their jovial judgment will abide. 

We received, then, the three lost sheep back into 
our innocent fold again with the most joyous shouting 
and cheering. We made Berry (who was, in truth, 
nothing loth) order up I don't know how much more 
claret. We obliged the Frenchman to drink malgre 
lid ; and in the course of a short time we had poor 
Whey in such a state of excitement, that he actually 
volunteered to sing a song, which he said he had heard 
at some very gay supper party at Cambridge, and which 
begins : — 

u A pye sat on a pear-tree, 
A pye sat on a pear-tree, 
A pye sat on a pear-tree, 

Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh-ho !" 

Fancy Mrs. Berry's face as she looked in, in the 
midst of that Bacchanalian ditty, when she saw no less 
a person than the Rev. Lemuel Whey carolling it. 

" Is it you, my dear V cries Berry, as brave now as 
any Petruchio. " Come in, and sit down, and hear 
Whey's song." 

" Lady Pash is asleep, Frank," said she. 

" Well, darling ! that's the very reason. Give Mrs. 
Berry a glass, Jack, will you ?" 

" Would you wake your aunt, sir ?" hissed out 
madam. 



38 men's wives. 



" Never mind me, love ! Pm awake, and like it /" 
cried the venerable Lady Pash from the salon. " Sing 
away, gentlemen !" 

At which we all set up an audacious cheer ; and 
Mrs. Berry flounced back to the drawing-room, but did 
not leave the door open, that her aunt might hear our 
melodies. 

Berry had by this time arrived at that confidential 
state to which a third bottle always brings the well- 
regulated mind ; and he made a clean confession to 
Cutler and myself of his numerous matrimonial annoy- 
ances. He was not allowed to dine out, he said, and 
but seldom to ask his friends to meet him at home. He 
never dared smoke a cigar for the life of him, not even 
in the stables. He spent the mornings dawdling in 
eternal shops, the evenings at endless tea-parties, or in 
reading poems or missionary tracts to his wife. He was 
compelled to take physic whenever she thought he 
looked a little pale, to change his shoes and stockings 
whenever he came in from a walk. " Look here," said 
he, opening his chest, and shaking his fist at Dobus ; 
" look what Angelica and that infernal Dobus have 
brought me to." 

I thought it might be a flannel waistcoat into which 
madam had forced him ; but it was worse : I give you 
my word of honour it was & pitch-plaster ! 

Vf e all roared at this, and the doctor as loud as any 
one ; but he vowed that he had no hand in the pitch- 
plaster. It was a favourite family remedy of the late 
apothecary, Sir George Catacomb, and had been put 
on by Mrs. Berry's own fair hands. 

When Anatole came in with coffee, Berry was in 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERR^. 39 

such high courage, that he told him to go to the deuce 
with it ; and we never caught sight of Lady Pash more, 
except, when muffled up to the nose, she passed through 
the salle-a-manger to go to her carnage, in which Dobus 
and the parson were likewise to be transported to Paris. 
" Be a man, Frank," says she, " and hold your own," 
for the good old lady had taken her nephew's part in 
the matrimonial business ; " and you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, 
come and see him often. You're a good fellow, take 
old one-eyed Calipash's word for it. Shall I take you 
to Paris ?" 

Dear, kind Angelica, she had told her aunt all I 
said! 

" Don't go, George," says Berry, squeezing me by 
the hand. So I said I was going to sleep at Versailles 
that night ; but if she would give a convoy to Jack 
Butts, it would be conferring a great obligation on him ; 
with which favour the old lady accordingly complied, 
saying to him, with great coolness, " Get up, and sit 
with John in the rumble, Mr. What-dye-call-'em." The 
fact is, the good old soul despises an artist as much as 
she does a tailor. 

Jack tripped to his place very meekly ; and " Re- 
member Saturday," cried the doctor ; and, " Don't for- 
get Thursday," exclaimed the divine, — " a bachelors' 
party, you know." And so the cavalcade drove thun- 
dering down the gloomy old Avenue de Paris. 

The Frenchman, I forgot to say, had gone away ex- 
ceedingly ill long since ; and the reminiscences of 
" Thursday " and " Saturday " evoked by Dobus and 
Whey, were, to tell the truth, parts of our conspiracy ; 
for in the heat of Berry's courage, we had made him 
promise to dine with us all round en gargon, with all 



40 men's wives. 



except Captain GorT, who " racklacted " that he was en- 
gaged every day for the next three weeks, as indeed he 
is, to a thirty-sous ordinary which the gallant officer 
frequents, when not invited elsewhere. 

Cutler and I then were the last on the field ; and 
though we were for moving away, Berry, whose vigour 
had, if possible, been excited by the bustle and colloquy 
in the night air, insisted upon dragging us back again, 
and actually proposed a grill for supper ! 

We found in the salle-a-manger a strong smell < f 
an extinguished lamp, and Mrs. Berry was snuffing out 
the candles on the sideboard. 

" Hullo, my dear !" shouts Berry ; " easily, if you 
please ! we've not done yet !" 

" Not done yet, Mr. Berry I" groans the lady, in a 
hollow, sepulchral tone. 

" No, Mrs. B., not done yet. We are going to have 
some supper, a'n't we, George ?" 

" I think it's quite time to go home," said Mr. Fitz- 
Boodle (who, to say the truth, began to tremble him- 
self). 

" I think it is, sir ; you are quite right, sir ; you 
will pardon me, gentlemen, I have a bad headache, and 
will retire." 

" Good night, my dear !" said that audacious Berry. 
" Anatole, tell the cook to broil a fowl, and bring some 
wine." 

If the loving couple had been alone, or if Cutler had 
not been an attache to the embassy, before whom,, she 
was afraid of making herself ridiculous, I am confident 
that Mrs. Berry would have fainted away on the spot ; 
and that all Berry's courage would have tumbled down 
lifeless by the side of her. So she only gave a martyr- 



MR. AND AIRS. FRANK BERRY. 41 

ized look, and left the room ; and while we partook of 
the very unnecessary repast, was good enough to sing 
some hymn tunes to an exceedingly slow movement in 
the next room, intimating that she was awake, and 
that, though suffering, she found her consolations in re- 
ligion. 

These melodies did not in the least add to our 
friend's courage. The devoted fowl had, somehow, no 
devil in it. The champagne in the glasses looked 
exceedingly flat and blue. The fact is, that Cutler and 
I were now both in a state of dire consternation, and 
soon made a move for our hats, and lighting each a 
cigar in the hall, made across the little green where the 
Cupids and nymphs were listening to the dribbling 
fountain in the dark. 

" I'm hanged if I don't have a cigar too !" says 
Berry, rushing after us ; and accordingly putting in his 
pocket a key about the size of a shovel, winch hung by 
the little handle of the outer grille, forth he sallied, and 
joined us in our fumigation. 

He stayed with us a couple of hours, and returned 
homewards in perfect good spirits, having given me his 
word of honour he would dine with us the next day. 
He put in his immense key into the grille, and unlocked 
it ; but the gate would not open : it was bolted within. 

He began to make a furious jangling and ringing at 
the bell ; and in oaths, both French and English, called 
upon the recalcitrant Anatole. 

* After much tolling of the bell, a light came cutting 
across the crevices of the inner door; it was thrown 
open, and a figure appeared with a lamp, — a tall, slim 
figure of a woman, clothed in white from head to 
foot. 



42 men's wives. 



It was Mrs. Berry, and when Cutler and I saw her, 
we both ran as fast as our legs could carry us. 

Berry, at this, shrieked with a wild laughter. 
" Eemember to-morrow T , old boys," shouted he, — six 
o'clock ;" and we were a quarter of a mile off when the 
gate closed, and the little mansion of the Avenue de 
Paris was once more quiet and dark. 

The next afternoon, as we were playing at billiards, 
Cutler saw Mrs. Berry drive by in her carriage ; and as 
soon as rather a long rubber was over, I thought I 
would go and look for our poor friend, and so went 
down to the Pavilion. Every door was open, as the 
wont is in France, and I walked in unannounced, and 
saw this. 

He was playing a duet with her on the flute. She 
had been out but for half an hour, after not speaking 
all the morning ; and having seen Cutler at the billiard- 
room window, and suspecting we might take advantage 
of her absence, she had suddenly returned home again, 
and had flung herself, weeping, into her Frank's arms, 
and said she could not bear to leave him in anger. 
And so, after sitting for a little while sobbing on his 
knee, she had forgotten and forgiven every thing ! 

The dear angel ! I met poor Frank in Bond Street 
only yesterday ; but he crossed over to the other side 
of the way. He had on galoshes, and is grown very 
fat and pale. He has shaved off his moustachios, and, 
instead, wears a respirator. He has taken his name off 
all his clubs, and lives very grimly in Baker Street. 
Well, ladies, no doubt you say he is right ; and what 
are the odds, so long as you are happy ? 

G. F. B. 



THE RAVENSWING. 

CHAPTER I. 

WHICH IS ENTIRELY INTRODUCTORY CONTAINS AN 

ACCOUNT OF MISS CRUMP, HER SUITORS, AND HER 
FAMILY CIRCLE. 

In a certain quiet and sequestered nook of the retired 
village of London — perhaps in the neighborhood of 
Berkeley Square, or at any rate somewhere near Burling- 
ton Gardens — there was once a house of entertainment 
called the Bootjack Hotel. Mr. Crump, the landlord, 
had, in the outset of life, performed the duties of boots 
in some inn even more frequented than his own, and, 
far from being ashamed of his origin, like many persons 
are in the clays of their prosperity, had thus solemnly 
recorded it over the hospitable gate of his hotel. 

Crump married Miss Budge, so well known to the 
admirers of the festive dance on the other side of the 
water as Miss Delancy ; and they had one daughter, 
named Morgiana after that celebrated part in the Forty 
Thieves which Miss Budge performed with unbounded 
applause both at the Surrey and the Wells. Mrs. Crump 
sat in a little bar, profusely ornamented with pictures of 
the dancers of all ages, from Hillisberg, Rose, Parisot, 
who employed the light fantastic toe in 1805, down to 
the Sylphides of our own day. There was in the 



44 MEN'S WIVES. 



collection a charming portrait of herself, clone by I \* 
Wilde ; she was in the dress of Morgiana, and in tlu* 
act of pouring, to very slow music, a quantity of boiling- 
oil into one of the forty jars. In this sanctuary she sat, 
with black eyes, black hair, a purple face and a turban, 
and, morning, noon, or night, as you went into the 
parlour of the hotel, there was Mrs. Crump taking tea 
(with a little something in it), looking at the fashions, 
or reading Cumberland's British Theatre. The Sunday 
Times was her paper, for she voted the Dispatch, that 
journal which is taken in by most ladies of her profes- 
sion, to be vulgar and Kadical, and loved the theatricai 
gossip in which the other mentioned journal abounds. 

The fact is, that the Royal Bootjack, though a hum- 
ble, was a very genteel house ; and a very little persua- 
sion would induce Mr. Crump, as he looked at his own 
door in the sun, to tell you that he had himself once 
drawn off with that very bootjack the top-boots of His 
Royal Highness the Prince of Wales and the first 
'gentleman in Europe. While, then, the houses of 
entertainment in the neighbourhood were loud in their 
pretended liberal politics, the Bootjack stuck to the 
good old Conservative line, and was .only frequented by 
such persons as were of that way of thinking. There 
were two parlours, much accustomed, one for the gentle- 
men of the shoulder-knot, who came from the houses of 
their employers hard by ; another for some "gents who 
used the 'ouse," as Mrs. Crump would say (Heaven 
bless her !) in - her simple Cockniac dialect, and who 
formed a little club there. 

I forgot to say that while Mrs. C. was sipping her 
eternal tea or washing up her endless blue china, you 



THB HAVENSWING. 45 

might often hear Miss Morgiana, employed at the little 
red silk cottage piano, singing, " Come where the 
haspens quiver," or " Bonny lad march over hill and 
furrow," or " My art and lute," or any other popular 
piece of the day. And the dear girl sung with very 
considerable skill too, for she had a fine loud voice, 
which, if .not always in tune, made up for that defect 
by its great energy and activity ; and Morgiana was 
not content with singing the mere tune, but gave every 
one of the roulades, flourishes, and ornaments as she 
heard them at the theatres by Mrs. Humby, Mrs. Way- 
lett, or Madame Vestris. The girl had a fine black eye 
like her mamma, a grand enthusiasm for the stage, as 
every actor's child will have, and, if the truth must be 
known, had appeared many and many a time at the 
theatre in Catherine Street, in minor parts first, and 
then in Little Pickle, in Desdemona, in Rosina, and in 
Miss Foote's part where she used to dance ; I have not 
the name to my hand, but think it is Davidson. Four 
times in the week, at least, her mother and she used to 
sail off at night to some place of public amusement, for 
Mrs. Crump had a mysterious acquaintance with all 
sorts of theatrical personages ; and the gates of her old 
1 1 aunt, "the Wells," of the Cobourg (by the kind 
permission of Mrs. Davidge), nay, of the Lane and the 
Market themselves, flew open before her " Open sesa- 
me," as the robbery' door did to her colleague, Ali Baba 
(Hornbuckle), in the operatic piece in which she was so 
famous. 

Beer was Mr. Crump's beverage, variegated by a 
little gin, in the evenings ; and little need be said oi 
this gentleman except that he discharged his duties 



46 



MEN S WIVES. 



honourably, and filled the president's chair at the club 
as completely as it could possibly be filled ; for he could 
not even sit in it in his great-coat, so accurately was 
the seat adapted to him. His wife and daughter, per- 
haps, thought somewhat slightingly of him, for he had 
no literary tastes, and had never been at a theatre since 
he took his bride from one. Pie was valet to Lord 
Slapper at the time, and certain it is that his lordship 
set him up in the Bootjack, and that stories had been 
told. But what are such to you or me ? Let bygones 
be bygones, Mrs. Crump was quite as honest as her 
neighbours, and Miss had 500Z. to be paid down on the 
day of her wedding. 

Those who know the habits of the British trades- 
man are aware that he has gregarious propensities like 
any lord in the land ; that he loves a joke, that he is 
not averse to a glass ; that after the day's toil he is 
happy to consort with men of his degree ; and that as 
t society is not so far advanced among us as to allow him 
to enjoy the comforts of splendid club-houses, which are 
open to many persons with not a tenth part of his pecu- 
niary means, he meets his friends in the cosy tavern 
parlour, where a neat sanded floor, a large Windsor 
chair, and a glass of hot something and water, make 
him as happy as any of the clubmen in their magnifi- 
cent saloons. 

At the Bootjack was, as we have said, a very get - 
teel and select society, called the Kidney Club, from 
the fact that on Saturday evenings a little graceful 
supper of broiled kidneys was usually discussed by the 
members of the club. Saturday was their grand night ; 
not but that they met on all other nights in the week 



THE RAVEN SWING. 47 

when inclined for festivity ; and indeed some of them 
could not come on Saturdays in the summer, having 
elegant villas in the suburbs, where they passed the 
six-and-thirty hours of recreation that are happily to be 
found at the end of every week. 

There was Mr. Balls, the great grocer of South 
Audley Street, a warm man, who, they say, had his 
20,000/.; Jack Snaffle, of the mews hard by, a capital 
fellow for a song ; Clinker, the ironmonger, all married 
gentlemen and in the best line of business ; Trestle, the 
undertaker, &c. No liveries were admitted into the 
room, as may be imagined, but one or two select but- 
lers and majordomos formed the circle, for the persons 
composing it knew very well how important it was to 
be on good terms with these gentlemen ; and many a 
time my lord's account would never have been paid, 
and my lady's large order never have been given, but 
for the conversation which took place at the Bootjack, 
and the friendly intercourse subsisting between all the 
members of the society. 

The tiptop men of the society were two bachelors, 
and two as fashionable tradesmen as any in the town. 
Mr. Woolsey, from Stultz's, of the famous houses of 
Linsey, Woolsey, and Co., of Conduit Street, tailors ; 
and Mr. Eglantine, the celebrated perruquier and per- 
fumer of Bond Street, whose soaps, razors, and patent 
ventilating scalps, are known throughout Europe. Lin- 
sey, the senior partner of the tailors' firm, had his mag- 
nificent mansion in Regent's Park, drove his buggy, 
and did little more than lend his name to the house. 
Woolsey lived in.it, was the working man of the firm, 
and it was said that his cut was as magnificent as that 



48 men's wives. 



of any man in the profession. Woolsey and Eglantine 
were rivals in many ways, — rivals in fashion, rivals in 
wit, and, above all, rivals for the hand of an amiable 
young lady w T hom we have already mentioned, the 
dark-eyed songstress Morgiana Crump. They were 
both desperately in love with her, that was the truth ; 
and each, in the absence of the other, abused his rival 
heartily. Of the hair-dresser, Woolsey said, that as for 
Eglantine being his real name, it was all his (Mr. 
Woolsey's) eye ; that he was in the hands of the Jews, 
and his stock and grand shop eaten up by usury. And 
with regard to Woolsey, Eglantine remarked, that his 
pretence of being descended from the cardinal was all 
nonsense ; that he was a partner, certainly, in the firm, 
but had only a sixteenth share ; and that the firm could 
never get their moneys in, and had an immense number 
of bad debts in their books. As is usual, there was a 
great deal of truth and a great deal of malice in these 
tales ; however, the gentlemen were, take them all in 
all, in a very fashionable way of business, and had their 
claims to Miss Morgiana's hand backed by the parents. 
Mr. Crump was a partisan of the tailor ; while Mrs. C. 
was a strong advocate for the claims of the enticing 
perfumer. 

Now, it was a curious fact, that these two gentlemen 
were each in need of the other's services, — Woolsey 
being afflicted with premature baldness, or some other 
necessity for a wig still more fatal, — Eglantine being a 
very fat man, who required much art to make his figure 
at all decent. He wore a brown frock coat and frogs, 
and attempted by all sort of contrivances to hide his 
obesity ; but Woolsey's remark, that, dress as he would, 



THE RAVENSWING. 49 

he would always look like a snob, and that there was 
only one man in England who could make a gen- 
tleman of him, went to the perfumer's soul ; and if there 
was one thing on earth he longed for (not including the 
hand of Miss Crump), it was to have a coat from 
Linsey's, in which costume he was sure that Morgiana 
would not resist him. 

If Eglantine was uneasy about the coat, on the other 
hand he attacked Woolsey atrociously on the score of 
his wig ; for though the latter went to the best makers, 
he never could get a peruke to sit naturally upon him ; 
and the unhappy epithet of Mr. Wiggins, applied to 
him on one occasion by the barber, stuck to him ever 
after in the club, and made him writhe when it was 
uttered. Each man would have quitted the Kidneys in 
disgust long since, but for the other, — for each had an 
attraction in the place, and dared not leave the field in 
possession of his rival. 

To do Miss Morgiana justice, it must be said, that 
she did not encourage one more than another ; but as 
far as accepting eau de Cologne and hair-combs from 
the perfumer, — some opera tickets, a treat to Greenwich, 
and a piece of real Genoa velvet for a bonnet (it had 
originally been intended for a waistcoat), from the ad- 
miring tailor, she had been equally kind to each, and in 
return had made each a present of a lock of her beau- 
tiful glossy hair. It was all she had to give, poor girl ! 
and what could she do but gratify her admirers by this 
cheap and artless testimony of her regard ? A pretty 
scene and quarrel took place between the rivals on the 
day when they discovered that each was in possession 
of one of Morgiana's ringlets ! 
3 



50 men's wives. 



Such, then, were the owners and inmates of the 
little Bootjack, from whom and which, as this chapter 
is exceedingly discursive and descriptive, we must sep- 
arate the reader for a while, and cany him — it is only 
into Bond Street, so no gentleman need be afraid — 
carry him into Bond Street, where some other person- 
ages are awaiting his consideration. 

'Not far from Mr. Eglantine's shop in Bond Street 
stand, as is very well known, the Windsor chambers. 
The West Diddlesex Association (western branch), the 
British and Foreign Soap Company, the celebrated at- 
torneys Kite and Levison, have their respective offices 
here ; and as the names of the other inhabitants of the 
chambers are not only painted on the walls, but also 
registered in Mrs. Boyle's Court Guide, it is quite un- 
necessary that they should be repeated here. Among 
them, on the entresol (between the spendid saloons of 
the Soap Company on the first floor, with their statue 
of Britannia presenting a packet of the soap to Europe, 
Asia, Africa, and America, and the West Diddlesex 
western branch on the basement) — on the entresol — 
lives a gentleman by the name of Mr. Howard Walker. 
The brass plate on the door of that gentleman's cham- 
bers had the word "Agency" inscribed beneath his 
name ; and we are therefore at liberty to imagine that 
he followed that mysterious occupation. In person Mr. 
Walker was very genteel ; he had large whiskers, dark 
eyes {with a slight cast in them), a cane, and a velvet 
waistcoat. He was a member of a club ; had an ad- 
mission to the opera, and knew every face behind the 
scenes ; and was in the habit of using a number of 
French phrases in his conversation, having picked up 



THE RAVENSWING. 51 

a smattering of that language during a residence " on 
the Continent :" in fact, he had found it very conve- 
nient at various times of his life to dwell in the city of 
Boulogne, where he acquired a knowledge of smoking, 
ecartg, and billiards, which were afterwards of great 
service to him. He knew all the best tables in town, 
and the marker at Hunt's could only give him ten. He 
had some fashionable acquaintances too, and you might 
see him walking arm-in-arm with such gentlemen as my 
Lord Vauxhall, the Marquess of Billingsgate, or Captain 
Buff; and at the same time nodding to young Moses, 
the dandy bailiff; or Loder, the gambling-house keeper ; 
or Aminadab, the Cigar- seller in the Quadrant. Some- 
times he wore a pair of moustachios, and was called 
Captain Walker, grounding his claim to that title upon 
the fact of having once held a commission in the service 
of her majesty the Queen of Portugal. It scarcely need 
be said that he had been through the Insolvent Court 
many times. But to those who did not know his history 
intimately there was some difficulty in identifying him 
with the individual who had so taken the benefit of, the 
law, inasmuch as in his schedule his name appeared as 
Hooker Walker, wine-merchant, commission-agent, mu- 
sic-seller, or what not. The fact is, that though he 
preferred to call himself Howard, Hooker was his Chris- 
tian name, and it had been bestowed on him by his 
worthy old father, who was a clergyman, and had in- 
tended his son for that profession. But as the old gen- 
tleman died in York gaol, where he was a prisoner for 
debt, he was never able to put his pious intentions with 
regard to his son into execution ; and the young fellow 
(as he was wont with many oaths to assert) was thrown 



52 

on his own resources, and became a man of the world, 
at a very early age. 

What Mr. Howard Walker's age was at the time of 
the commencement of this history, and, indeed, for an 
indefinite period before or afterwards, it is impossible to 
determine. If he were eight-and-twenty, as he asserted 
himself, Time had dealt hardly with him ; his hair was 
thin, there were many crows' feet about his eyes, and 
other signs in his countenance of the progress of decay. 
If, on the contrary, he were forty, as Sam Snaffle assert- 
ed, who himself had misfortunes in early life, and 
vowed he knew Mr. Walker in Whitecross Street prison 
in 1820, he was a very young-looking person consider- 
ing his age. His figure was active and slim, his leg 
neat, and he had not in his whiskers a single white 
hair. 

It must, however, be owned that he used Mr. Eglan- 
tine's Eegenerative Unction (which will make your 
whiskers as blaek as your boot), and, in fact, he was a 
pretty constant visitor at that gentleman's emporium ; 
dealing with him largely for soaps and articles of per- 
fumery, which he had at an exceedingly low rate. In- 
deed, he was never known to pay Mr. Eglantine one 
single shilling for those objects of luxury, and, having 
them on such moderate terms, was enabled to indulge 
in them pretty copiously. Thus Mr. Walker was al- 
most as great a nosegay as Mr. Eglantine himself. His 
handkerchief was scented with verbena, his hair with 
jessamine, and his coat had usually a fine perfume of 
cigars, which rendered his presence in a small room 
almost instantaneously remarkable. I have described 
Mr. Walker thus accurately, because, in truth, it is more 



THE RAVENS WING. 53 

with characters than with astounding events, that this 
little history deals, and Mr. Walker is one of the prin- 
cipal of our dramatis persona?. 

And so, having introduced Mr. W., we will walk 
over wi^h hirn to Mr. Eglantine's emporium, where that 
gentleman is in waiting, too, to have his likeness taken. 

There is about an acre of plate glass under the 
royal arms on Mr, Eglantine's shop window ; and at 
night, when the gas is lighted, and the washballs are illu- 
minated, and the lambent flame plays fitfully over num- 
berless bottles of vari-coloured perfumes — now flashes 
on a case of razors, and now lightens up a crystal vase, 
containing a hundred thousand of his patent tooth- 
brushes — the effect of the sight may be imagined. You 
don't suppose that he is a creature who has those 
odious, simpering wax figures in his window, that are 
called by the vulgar dummies? He is above such a 
wretched artifice ; and it is my belief that he would as 
soon have his own head chopped off, and placed as a 
trunkless decoration to his shop-window, as allow a 
dummy to figure there. On one pane you read in ele- 
gant gold letters "Eglantinia" — 'tis his essence for the 
handkerchief; on the other is written "Regenerative 
Unction " — 'tis his invaluable pomatum for the hair. 

There is no doubt about it: Eglantine's knowledge 
of his profession amounts to genius. He sells a cake of 
soap for seven shillings, for which another man would 
not get a shilling, and his toothbrushes go off like wild- 
fire at half-a-guinea a-piece. If he has to administer 
rouge or pearl-powder to ladies, he does it with a mys- 
tery and fascination which there is no resisting, and the 
ladies believe there are no cosmetics like his. He gives 



54 men's wives. 



his wares unlieard-of names, and obtains for them sums 
equally prodigious. He can dress hair — that is a fact 
— as few men in this age can ; and has been known to 
take twenty pounds in a single night from as many of 
the first ladies of England when ringlets were in«fashion. 
The introduction of bands, he says, made a difference of 
2000?. a-year in his income ; and if there is one thing 
in the world he hates and despises, it is a Madonna 
" I'm not," says he, u a tradesman — I'm a hartist (Mr. 
Eglantine was born in London). I'm a hartist ; and 
show me a fine 'ead of air, and I'll dress it fo* 
nothink." He vows that it was his way of dressing 
Mademoiselle Sontag's hair, that caused the count her 
husband to fall in love with her ; and he has a lock of it 
in a brooch, and says it was the finest head he ever saw, 
except one, and that one was Morgiana Crump's. 

With his genius and his position in the profession, 
how comes it, then, that Mr. Eglantine was not a man of 
fortune, as many a less clever has been ? If the truth 
must be told, he loved pleasure, and was in the hands 
of the Jews. He had been in business twenty years : 
he had borrowed a thousand pounds to purchase his 
stock and shop ; and he calculated that he had paid 
upwards of twenty thousand pounds for the use of the 
one thousand, which was still as much due as on the 
first day when he entered business. He could show 
that he had received a thousand dozen of champagne 
from the disinterested money-dealers with whom he 
usually negotiated his paper. He had pictures all over 
his " studios," which had been purchased in the same 
bargains. If he sold his goods at an enormous price, 
he paid for them at a rate almost equally exorbitant. 



THE RAVEN SWING. 55 

There was not an article in his shop but came to him 
through his Israelite providers ; and in the very front 
shop itself sat a gentleman who was the nominee of one 
of them, and who was called Mr. Mossrose. He was 
there to superintend the cash account, and to see that 
certain instalments were paid to his principals, accord- 
ing to certain agreements entered into between Mr. 
Eglantine and them. 

Having that sort of opinion of Mr. Mossrose which 
Damocles may have had of the sword which hung over 
his head, of course Mr. Eglantine hated 4iis foreman 
profoundly. " He an artist," would the former gen- 
tleman exclaim, "why he's only a disguised bailiff! 
Mossrose, indeed ! the chap's name 's Amos, and he 
sold oranges before he came here." Mr. Mossrose, on 
his side, utterly despised Mr. Eglantine, and looked for- 
ward to the day when he would become the proprietor 
of the shop, and take Eglantine for a foreman, and then 
it would be his turn to sneer and bully, and ride the 
high horse. 

Thus it will be seen that there was a skeleton in the 
great perfumer's house, as the saying is, a worm in his 
heart's core, and though, to all appearance prosperous, 
that his position was really an awkward one. 

What Mr. Eglantine's relations were with Mr. 
Walker may be imagined from the following dialogue, 
which took place between the two gentlemen at five 
o'clock one summer's afternoon, when Mr. Walker, 
issuing from his chambers, came across to the perfumer's 
shop : 

" Is Eglantine at home, Mr. Mossrose ?" said Walker 
to the foreman, who sat in the front shop. 



56 men's wives. 



" Don't know — go and look " (meaning go and be 
hanged) ; for Mossrose also hated Mr. Walker. 

" If you're uncivil I'll break your bones, Mr. Amos" 
says Mr. Walker, sternly. 

" I should like to see you try, Mr. Hooker Walker," 
replies the undaunted shopman, on which the captain, 
looking several tremendous caniugs at him, walked into 
the back room or " studio." 

" How are you, Tiny, my buck ?" says the captain. 
"Much doing?" 

" Not a soul in town. I 'aven't touched the hirons 
all day," replied Mr. Eglantine, in rather a desponding 
way. 

" Well, just get them ready now, and give my whis- 
kers a turn. I'm going to dine with Billingsgate 
and some out-and-out fellows at the Regent, and so, my 
lad, just do your best." 

"I can't," says Mr. Eglantine. "I expect ladies, 
captain, every minute." 

" Very good ; I don't want to trouble such a great 
man, I'm sure. Good-by, and let me hear from you 
this day week, Mr. Eglantine." "This day week" 
meant that at seven days from that time a certain bill 
endorsed by Mr. Eglantine would be due, and presented 
for payment. 

"Don't be in such a hurry, Captain — do sit down. 
I'll curl you in one minute. And, I say, won't the 
party renew ?" 

" Impossible — it's the third renewal." 

" But I'll make the thing handsome to you ; — in- 
deed I will." 

" How much ?" 



THE RAVENSWING. 57 

" Will ten pounds do the business ?" 

" What ! offer my principal ten pounds ? Are you 
mad, Eglantine ? — A little more of the iron to the left 
whisker." 

" No, I meant for commission." 

"Well, I'll see if that will do. The party I deal 
with, Eglantine, has power, I know, and can defer the 
matter, no doubt. As for me, you know, I've nothing 
to do in the affair, and only act as a friend between 
you and him. I give you my honour and soul, I do." 

u I know you do, my dear sir." The two last 
speeches were lies. The perfumer knew perfectly well 
that Mr. Walker would pocket the 10Z. ; but he was 
too easy to care for paying it, and too timid to quarrel 
with such a powerful friend. And he had on three 
different occasions already payed 101. fine for the re- 
newal of the bill in question, all of which bonuses he 
knew went to his friend Mr. Walker. 

Here, too, the reader will perceive what was, in part, 
the meaning of the word "agency" on Mr. Walker's 
door. He was a go-between between money-lenders 
and borrowers in this world, and certain small sums 
always remained with him in the course of the transac- 
tion. He was an agent for wine, too ; an agent for 
places to be had through the influence of great men ; 
he was an agent for half-a-dozen theatrical people, male 
and female, and had the interests of the latter, especially, 
it was said, at heart. Such were a few of the means 
by which this worthy gentleman contrived to support 
himself, and if, as he was fond of high living, gambling, 
and pleasures of all kinds, his revenue was not large 
enough for his expenditure — why, he got into debt, and 



58 men's wives. 



settled his bills that way. He w r as as much at home in 
the Fleet as in Pall Mall, and quite as happy in the 
one place as in the other. " That's the w r ay I take 
things," would this philosopher say. " If I've money, 
I spend ; if I've credit, I borrow ; if I'm dunned, I white- 
wash ; and so you can't beat me down." Happy elas- 
ticity of temperament ! I do believe that in spite of his 
misfortunes and precarious position, there was no man 
in England whose conscience was more calm, and whose 
slumbers were more tranquil, than those of Captain 
Howard Walker. 

As he was sitting under the hands of Mr. Eglantine, 
he reverted to " the ladies," whom the latter gentleman 
professed to expect ; said he was a sly dog, a lucky 
ditto, and asked him if the ladies were handsome. 

Eglantine thought there could be no harm in tell- 
ing a bouncer to a gentleman with whom he was en- 
gaged in money transactions ; and so, to give the cap- 
tain an idea of his solvency and the brilliancy of his fu- 
ture prospects, " Captain," said he, " I've got hundred 
and eighty pounds out with you, which you were oblig- 
ing enough to negotiate for me. Have I, or have I 
not, two bills out to that amount ?" 

" Well, my good fellow, you certainly have ; and 
what then ?" 

" What then ? Why I bet you five pounds to one 
that in three months those bills are paid." 

" Done ; five pounds to one. I take it." 

This sudden closing with him made the perfumer 
rather uneasy, but he was not to pay for three months, 
and so he said "done" too, and went on, "What would 
you say if your bills were paid ?" 



T11E K AVE N SWING. 59 

" Not mine ; Pike's." 

" Well, if Pike's were paid, and the Minories' man 
paid, and every single liability I have cleared off ; and 
that Mossrose flung out of winder, and me and my em- 
porium as free as air ?" 

" You don't say so ? Is Queen Anne dead ? and 
has she left you a fortune ? or what's the luck in the 
wind now i" 

" It's better than Queen Anne, or any body dying. 
What should you say to seeing in that very place where 
Mossrose now sits (hang him !) — in seeing the finest 
head of ''air now in Europe ? A woman I tell you — a 
slap-up lovely woman, who, I'm proud to say, will soon 
be called Mrs. Heglantine, and will bring me five thou- 
sand pounds to her fortune." 

"Well, Tiny, this is good luck, indeed. I say, 
you'll be able to do a bill or two for me then, hay ? 
You won't forget an old friend 2" 

" That I won't. I shall have a place at my board 
for you, capting ; and many's the time I shall 'ope to 
see you under that ma'ogany." 

" What will the French milliner say ? She'll hang 
herself for despair, Eglantine." 

" Hush ! not a word about J er. I've sown all my 
wild oats, I tell you. Eglantine is no longer the gay 
young bachelor, but the sober married man. I want a 
heart to share the feelings of mine. I want repose. 
I'm not so young as I was, I feel it." 

" Pooh, pooh ! you are — you are " 

" Well, but I sigh for an 'appy fireside ; and I'll 
have it." 

" And give up that club which you belong to, hay !" 



60 men's wives. 



" The Kidneys ? Oh ! of course, no married man 
should belong to such places, at least, /'ll not ; and I'll 
have my kidneys broiled at home. But be quiet, cap- 
tain ; if you please the ladies appointed to " 

" And is it the lady you expect ? eh, you rogue !" 
" Well, get along. It's her and her ma." 
But Mr. Walker determined he wouldn't get along, 
and would see these lovely ladies before he stirred. 

The operation on Mr. Walker's whiskers being 
concluded, he was arranging his toilet before the glass 
in an agreeable attitude, his neck out ; his enormous 
pin settled in his stock to his satisfaction, his eyes com- 
placently directed towards the reflection of his left and 
favourite whisker, and Eglantine was laid on a litter in 
an easy, though melancholy posture. He was twid- 
dling the tongs with which he had just operated on 
Walker with one hand, and his right-hand ringlet with 
the other, and he was thinking — thinking of Morgiana ; 
and then of the bill which was to become due on the 
16th ; and then of a light blue velvet waistcoat with 
gold sprigs, in which he looked very killing, and so 
was trudging round in his little circle of loves, fears, 
and vanities. " Hang it !" Mr. Walker was thinking, 
"lama handsome man. A pair of whiskers like mine 
are not met with every day. If any body can see that 

my tuft is dyed, may I be " When the door was 

flung open, and a large lady with a curl on her fore- 
head, yellow shawl, a green velvet bonnet with feathers, 
half-boots, and a drab gown with tulips and other large 
exotics painted on it — when, in a word, Mrs. Crump 
and her daughter bounced into the room. 

" Here we are, Mr. E.," cries Mrs. Crump, in a gay, 



THE RAVEN SWING. 61 

foldtre, confidential air. " But, law ! there's a gent in 
the room I" 

" Don't mind me, ladies," said the gent alluded to, 
with his fascinating way. " I'm a friend of Eglantine's ; 
an't I, Egg ? a chip of the old block, hay ?" 

u That you are," said the perfumer, starting up. 

" An 'air-dresser ?" asked Mrs. Crump. " Well, I 
thought he was ; there's something, Mr. E., in gentle- 
men of your profession so exceeding, so uncommon dis- 
tangy" 

" Madam, you do me proud," replied the gentleman 
so complimented, with great presence of mind. " Will 
you allow me to try my skill upon you, or upon miss, 
your lovely daughter ? I'm not so clever as Eglantine, 
but no bad hand, I assure you." 

" Nonsense, captain," interrupted the perfumer, who 
was uncomfortable somehow at the rencontre between 
the captain and the object of his affection. "He's not 
in the profession, «Mrs. C. This is my friend Captain 
Walker, and proud I am to call him my friend." And 
then aside to Mrs. C, " One of the first swells on town, 
ma'am — a regular tip-topper." 

Humouring the mistake which Mrs. Crump had just 
made, Mr. Walker thrust the curling-irons into the fire 
in a minute, and looked round at the ladies with such 
a fascinating grace, that both, now made acquainted 
with his quality, blushed, and giggled, and were quite 
pleased. Mamma looked at 'Gina, and 'Gina looked 
at mamma ; and then mamma gave 'Gina a little blow 
in the region of her little waist, and then both burst 
out laughing, as ladies will laugh, and as, let us trust, 
they may laugh for ever and ever. Why need there 



62 men's wives. 



be a reason for laughing ? Let us laugh, when we are 
laughy, as we sleep when we are sleepy. And so Mrs. 
Crump and her demoiselle laughed to their heart's con- 
tent, and both fixed their large shining black eyes re- 
peatedly on Mr. Walker. 

" I won't leave the room," said he, coming forward 
with the heated iron in his hand, and smoothing it on 
the brown paper with all the dexterity of a professor 
(for the fact is Mr. W. every morning curled his own 
immense whiskers with the greatest skill and care) — " I 
won't leave the room, Eglantine, my boy. My lady 
here took me for a hairdresser, and so, you know, I've 
a right to stay." 

" He can't stay," said Mrs. Crump, all of a sudden, 
blushing as red as a peony. 

" I shall have on my peignoir, mamma," said miss, 
looking at the gentleman, and then dropping down her 
eyes and blushing too. 

" But he can't stay, 'Gina, I tell ^ou ; do you think 
that I would, before a gentleman, take off my " 

" Mamma means her front !" said miss, jumping 
up, and beginning to laugh with all her might; at 
which the honest landlady of the Bootjack, who loved 
a joke, although at her own expense, laughed too, and 
said that no one, except Mr. Crump and Mr. Eglantine, 
had ever seen her without the ornament in question. 

" Do go now, you provoking thing, you !" continued 
Miss C. to Mr. "Walker ; " I wish to hear the hoverture, 
and it's six o'clock now, and we shall never be done 
against then :" but the way in which Morgiana said 
" do go," clearly indicated " don't," to the perspicuous 
mind of Mr. Walker. 



THE HAVEN SWING. 63 

" Perhaps you 'ad better go," continued Mr. Eglan- 
tine, joining in this sentiment, and being, in truth, some- 
what uneasy at the admiration which his "swell friend " 
excited. 

" I'll see you hanged first, Eggy, my boy ! Go I 
won't, until these ladies have had their hair dressed : 
didn't you yourself tell me that Miss Crump's was the 
most beautiful hair in Europe ? And do you think 
that I'll go away without seeing it ? No, here I stay." 

" You naughty, wicked, odious, provoking man !" 
said Miss Crump. But, at the same time, she took off 
her bonnet, and placed it on one of the side candlesticks 
of Mr. Eglantine's glass (it was a black velvet bonnet, 
trimmed with sham lace, and with a wreath of nastur- 
tiums, convolvuluses, and wallflowers within) ; and then 
said, " Give me the peignoir, Mr. Archibald, if you 
please ;" and Eglantine, who w T ould do any thing for 
her when she called him Archibald, immediately pro- 
duced that garment, and wrapped round the delicate 
shoulders of the lady, who removing a sham gold chain 
which she wore on her forehead, two brass hair-combs 
set with glass rubies, and the comb which kept her 
back hair together, removing them, I say, and turning 
her great eyes towards the stranger, and giving her 
head a shake, down let tumble such a flood of shining, 
waving, heavy, glossy, jetty hair, as would have done 
Mr. Rowland's heart good to see. It tumbled down 
Miss Morgiana's back, and it tumbled over her shoul- 
ders, it tumbled over the chair on which she sat, and 
from the midst of it her jolly, bright-eyed, rosy face 
beamed out with a triumphant smile, which said, " A 1 nt 
I now the most angelic being you ever saw ?" 



64 men's wives. 



" By Heavens ! it's the most beautiful thing I ever 
saw !" cried Mr. Walker, with undisguised admiration. 

" Isn't it V' said Mrs. Crump, who made her daugh- 
ter's triumph her own. " Heigho ! when I acted at the 
Wells in 1820, before that dear girl was born, 7" had 
such a head of hair as that, to a shade, sir, to a shade. 
They called me Ravens wing on account of it. I lost 
my head of hair when that dear child was born, and I 
often say to her c Morgiana, you came into the world to 
rob your mother of her 'air.' Were you ever at the 
Wells, sir, in 1820 ? Perhaps you recollect Miss De- 
lancy ? I am that Miss Delancy. Perhaps you re- 
collect, — 

" ' Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink : 
By the light of the star, 
On the blue river's brink, 
I heard a guitar. 

I heard a guitar 

On the blue waters clear, 
And knew by its mu-u-sic, 

That Selim was near !' 

You remember that in the Bagdad Bells? Fatima, 
Delancy ; Selim, Benlomond (his real name was Bun- 
nion) ; and he failed, poor fellow, in the public line 
afterwards. It was done to the tambourine, and dancing 
between each verse, — 

" * Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, 

How the soft music swells, 
And I hear the soft clink 

Of the minaret bells ! 
Tink-a ' " 



THE RAVEN SWING. 65 

" Oh !" here cried Miss Crump, as if in exceeding 
pain (and whether Mr. Eglantine had twitched, pulled, 
or hurt any one individual hair of that lovely head I 
don't know), — " Oh, you are killing me, Mr. Eglantine !" 

And with this mamma, who was in her attitude, 
holding up the end of her boa as a visionary tambour- 
ine, and Mr. "Walker, who was looking at her, and in 
his amusement at the mother's performances had almost 
forgotten the charms of the daughter, — both turned 
round at once, and looked at her with many expressions 
of sympathy, while Eglantine, in a voice of reproach, 
said, " Killed you, Morgiana ! I kill you P 

" I'm better now," said the young lady, with a smile, 
— " I'm better, Mr. Archibald, now." And if the truth 
must be told, no greater coquette than Miss Morgiana 
existed in all Mayfair, — no, not among the most fash- 
ionable mistresses of the fashionable valets who fre- 
quented the Bootjack. She believed herself to be the 
most fascinating creature that the world ever produced ; 
she never saw a stranger but she tried these fascina- 
tions upon him ; and her charms of manner and person 
were of that showy sort which is most popular in this 
world, where people are wont to admire most that 
which gives them the least trouble to see ; and so you 
will find a tulip of a woman to be in fashion, when a 
little humble violet or daisy of creation is passed over 
without remark. Morgiana was a tulip among women, 
and the tulip-fanciers all came flocking round her. 

Well, the said " Oh !" and " I'm better now, Mr. 
Archibald," thereby succeeded in drawing every body's 
attention to her lovely self. By the latter words Mr. 
Eglantine was specially inflamed ; he glanced at Mr. 



66 

Walker, and said, " Capting ! didn't I tell you she was 
a creecher ? See her hair, sir, it's as black and as glossy 
as salting. It weighs fifteen pound that hair, sir ; and 
I wouldn't let my apprentice — that blundering Moss- 
rose, for instance (hang him !) — I wouldn't let any one 
but myself dress that hair for 500 guineas ! Ah, Miss 
Morgiana, remember that you may always have Eglan- 
tine to dress your hair ! — remember that, that's all." 
And with this the worthy gentleman began rubbing 
delicately a little of the Eglantinia into those ambrosial 
locks, which he loved with all the love of a man and an 
artist. 

And as for Morgiana showing her hair, I hope none 
of my readers will entertain a bad opinion of the poor 
girl for doing so. Her locks were her pride ; she acted 
at the private theatre hair parts, where she could appear 
on purpose to show them in a dishevelled state ; and 
that her modesty was real, and not affected, may be 
proved by the fact that when Mr. Walker, stepping up 
in the midst of Eglantine's last speech, took hold of a 
lock of her hair very gently with his hand, she cried, 
" Oh !" and started with all her might. And Mr. Eg- 
lantine observed, very gravely, " Capting ! Miss Crump's 
hair is to be seen, and not to be touched, if you please." 

" ISTo more it is, Mr. Eglantine," said her mamma ; 
" and now, as it's come to my turn, I beg the gentle- 
man will be so obliging as to go." 

" Must I?" cried Mr. Walker ; and as it was half- 
past six, and he was engaged to dinner at the Eegent 
Club, and as he did not wish to make Eglantine jealous, 
who evidently was annoyed by his staying, he took his 
hat just as Miss Crump's coiffure was completed, and, 
saluting her and her mamma, left the room. 



THE RAVENSWING. 67 

"A tip-top swell, I can assure you" said Eglantine, 
nodding after him ; " a regular bang-up chap, and no 
mistake. Intimate with the Marquess of Billingsgate, 
and Lord Vauxhall, and that set." 

" He's very genteel," said Mrs. Crump. 

" Law ! I'm sure I think nothing of him," said 
Morgiana. 

And Captain Walker walked towards his club, 
meditating on the beauties of Morgiana. " What hair," 
said he ; u what eyes the gal has ! they're as big as 
billiard balls ; and £5000. Eglantine's in luck : £5000 
— she can't have it, it's impossible !" 

No sooner was Mrs. Crump's front arranged, during 
the time of w 7 hich operation Morgiana sat in perfect 
contentment looking at the last French fashions in the 
Courrier des Dames, and thinking how her pink satin 
slip would dye, and make just such a mantilla as that 
represented in the engraving, — no sooner was Mrs, 
Crump's front arranged, than both ladies, taking leave 
of Mr. Eglantine, tripped back to the Bootjack Hotel, in 
the neighbourhood ; where a very neat green fly was 
already in w r aiting, the gentleman on the box of which 
(from a livery-stable in the neighbourhood) gave a 
knowing touch to his hat, and a salute with his whip, 
to the two ladies, as they entered the tavern. 

" Mr. W.'s inside," said the man, a driver from Mr. 
Snaffle's establishment ; " he's been in and out this 
score of times, and looking down the street for you." 
And in the house, in fact, was Mr. Woolsey, the tailor, 
who had hired the fly, and was engaged to conduct the 
ladies that evening to the play. 

It was really rather too bad to think that Miss Morgia- 



68 men's wives. 



na, after going to one lover to have her hair dressed, should 
go with another to the play ; but such is the way with 
lovely woman ! Let her have a dozen admirers, and 
the dear coquette will exercise her power upon them 
all ; and as a lady, when she has a large wardrobe, and 
a taste for variety in dress, will appear every day in a 
different costume ; so will the young and giddy beauty 
wear her lovers, encouraging now the black whiskers, 
now smiling on the brown, now thinking that the gay 
smiling rattle of an admirer becomes her very well, and 
now adopting the sad sentimental melancholy one, ac- 
cording as her changeful fancy prompts her. Let us 
not be too angry with these uncertainties and caprices 
of beauty, and depend on it that, for the most part, 
those females who cry out loudest against the flighti- 
ness of their sisters, and rebuke their undue encourage- 
ment of this man or that, would do as much themselves 
if they had the chance, and are constant, as I am to my 
coat just now, because I have no other. 

"Did you see Doubleyon, 'Gina dear?" said her 
mamma, addressing that young lady. " He's in the 
bar with your pa, and has his military coat with the 
king's button, and looks like an officer." 

This was Mr. Woolsey's style, his great aim being 
to look like an army gent, for many of whom he in his 
capacity of tailor made those splendid red and blue 
coats which characterize our military. As for the royal 
button, had not he made a set of coats for his late ma- 
jesty George IV. % and he would add, when he narrated 
this circumstance, " Sir, Prince Blucher and Prince 
Swartzenberg's measure's in the house now ; and what's 
more, I've cut for Wellington." I believe he would 



THE RAVENSWING. 69 

have gone to St. Helena to make a coat for Napoleon, 
so great was his ardour. He wore a blue-black wig, 
and his whiskers were of the same hue. He was brief 
and stern in conversation, and he always went to 
masquerades and balls in a field-marshal's uniform. 

" He looks really quite the thing to-night," contin- 
ued Mrs. Crump. 

" Yes," said 'Gina ; " but he's such an odious wig, 
and the dye of his whiskers always comes off on his 
white gloves." 

" Every body has not their own hair, love," con- 
tinued Mrs. Crump with a sigh ; " but Eglantine's is 
beautiful." 

" Every hairdresser's is," answered Morgiana, rather 
contemptuously ; " but what I can't bear is, that their 
fingers is always so very fat and pudgy." 

In fact, something had gone wrong with the fair 
Morgiana. Was it that she had but little liking for 
the one pretender or the other ? Was it that young 
Glauber, who acted Romeo in the private theatricals, 
was far younger and more agreeable than either ? Or 
was it, that seeing a real gentleman, such as Mr. Walker, 
with whom she had had her first interview, she felt more 
and more the want of refinement in her other declared 
admirers ? Certain, however, it is, that she was very 
reserved all the evening, in spite of the attentions of 
Mr. Woolsey ; that she repeatedly looked round at the 
i ;ox-door, as if she expected some one to enter ; and 
that she partook of only a very few oysters, indeed, out 
of the barrel which the gallant tailor had sent down to 
the Bootjack, and off which the party supped. 

"What is it?" said Mr. Woolsey to his ally, Crump, 



70 men's wives. 



as they sat together after the retirement of the ladies. 
" She was dumb all night. She never once laughed at 
the farce, nor cried at the tragedy, and you know she 
laughs and cries uncommon. She only took half her 
negus, and not above a quarter of her beer." 

" No more she did !" replied Mr. Crump, very 
calmly. " I think it must be the barber as has been 
captivating her : he dressed her hair for the play." 

"Hang him, I'll shoot him!" said Mr. Woolsey. 
"A fat, foolish, effeminate beast like that marry Miss 
Morgiana ? Never ! I will shoot him. I'll provoke 
him next Saturday — I'll tread on his toe — I'll pull 
his nose !" 

" JSTo quarrelling at the Kidneys !" answered Crump, 
sternly ; " there shall be no quarrelling in that room as 
long as Fm in the chair !" 

" Well, at any rate you'll stand my friend ?" 

" You know I will," answered the other. " You 
are honourable, and I like you better than Eglantine. 
I trust you more than Eglantine, sir. You're more of 
a man than Eglantine, though you are a tailor ; and I 
wish with all my heart you may get Morgiana. Mrs. 
C. goes the other way, I know : but I tell you what, 
women will go their own ways, sir, and Morgy's like 
her mother in this point, and, depend upon it, Morgv 
will decide for herself." 

Mr. Woolsey presently went home, still persisting 
in his plan for the assassination of Eglantine. Mi-. 
Crump went to bed very quietly, and snored through 
the night at his usual tone. Mr. Eglantine passed 
some feverish moments of jealousy, for he had come 
down to the club in the evening, and had heard that 



THE RAVEXSWING. 



71 



Morgiana was gone to the play with his rival. And 
Miss Morgiana dreamed of a man, who was, — must 
we say it ? — exceedingly like Captain Howard Walker. 
" Mrs. Captain So and So !" thought she. " O, I do 
love a gentleman dearly !" 

And about this time, too, Mr. Walker himself came 
rolling home from the Regent, hiccupping, " Such hair ! 
— such eyebrows ! — such eyes ! like b-b-billiard-balls, 
by Jove !" 



CHAPTER II. 



IN WHICH MR. WALKER MAKES THREE ATTEMPTS TO 
ASCERTAIN THE DWELLING OF MORGIANA. 

The day after the dinner at the Regent Club, Mr. 
Walker stepped over to the shop of his friend the 
perfumer, where, as usual, the young man, Mr. Moss- 
rose, was established in the front premises. 

For some reason or other, the captain was particu- 
larly good-humoured ; and, quite forgetful of the words 
which had passed between him and Mr. Eglantine's 
lieutenant the day before, began addressing the latter 
with extreme cordiality. 

"A good morning to you, Mr. Mossrose," said 
Captain Walker. "Why, sir, you look as fresh as 
your namesake, — you do, indeed, now, Mossrose." 

" You look ash yellow ash a guinea," responded 
Mr. Mossrose, sulkily. He thought the captain was 
hoaxing him. 



72 men's wives. 



" My good sir," replies the other, nothing cast 
down, " I drank rather too freely last night." 

" The more beast you !" said Mr. Mossrose. 

" Thank you, Mossrose ; the same to you," answered 
the captain. 

" If you call me a beast I'll punch your head off !" 
answered the young man, who had much skill in the 
art which many of his brethren practise. 

" I didn't, my fine fellow," replied Walker ; " on 
the contrary, you — " 

" Do you mean to give me the lie ?" broke out the 
indignant Mossrose, who hated the agent fiercely, and 
did not in the least care to conceal his hate. 

In fact, it was his fixed purpose to pick a quarrel 
with Walker, and to drive him, if possible, from Mr. 
Eglantine's shop. " Do you mean to give me the lie, I 
say, Mr. Hooker Walker !" 

" For Heaven's sake, Amos, hold your tongue !" 
exclaimed the captain, to whom the name of Hooker 
was as poison ; but, at this moment, a customer step- 
ping in, Mr. Amos exchanged his ferocious aspect for a 
bland grin, and Mr. Walker walked into the studio. 

When in Mr. Eglantine's presence, Walker, too, was 
all smiles in a minute, sunk down on a settee, held out 
his hand to the perfumer, and began confidentially 
discoursing with him. 

" Such a dinner, Tiny, my boy," said he; "such 
prime fellows to eat it, too! Billingsgate, Vauxhali, 
Cinqbars, Buff of the Blues, and half-a-dozen more of 
the best fellows in town. And what do you think the 
dinner cost a-head ? I'll wager you'll never guess." 

" Was it two guineas a-head ? — In course I mean 
without wine," said the genteel perfumer. 



THE RAVENS WING. 73 

u Guess again 3" 

" Well, was it ten guineas a-liead ? I'll guess any 
sum you please," replied Mr. Eglantine ; for I know 
that when you nobs are together, you don't spare your 
money. I, myself, at the Star and Garter at Richmond, 
once paid " 

" Eigh teen-pence f? 

" Heighteen-pence, sir ? — I paid five-and-thirty shil- 
lings per 'ead. I'd have you to know that I can act as 
a gentlemen as well as any other gentleman, sir," an- 
swered the perfumer with much dignity. 

" Well, eigh teen-pence was what we paid, and not a 
rap more, upon my honour." 

" Nonsense, you're joking. The Marquess of Bil- 
lingsgate dine for eighteen-pence ? Why, hang it, if 
I was a marquess, I'd pay a five-pound note for my 
lunch." 

" You little know the person, Master Eglantine," 
replied the captain, with a smile of contemptuous supe- 
riority ; " you little know the real man of fashion, my 
good fellow. Simplicity, sir, — simplicity's the charac- 
teristic of the real gentleman, and so I'll tell you what 
we had for dinner." 

"Turtle and venison, of course; — no nob dines 
without them" 

" Psha ! we're sick of 'em ! We had pea-soup and 
boiled tripe ! What do you think of that ? We had 
sprats and herrings, a bullock's heart, a baked shoulder 
of mutton and potatoes, pig's fry and Irish stew. 1 
ordered the dinner, sir, and got more credit for invent- 
ing it than they ever gave to Ude or Soye. The mar- 
quess was in ecstasies, the earl devoured half a bushel 



74 men's wives. 



of sprats, and if the viscount is not laid up with a sur- 
feit of bullock's heart, my name's not Howard Walker. 
Billy, as I call him, was in the chair, and gave my 
health ; and what do you think the rascal proposed ?" 

" What did his lordship propose V 

" That every man present should subscribe twopence, 
and pay for my share of the dinner. By Jove ! it is 
true, and the money was handed to me in a pewter-pot, 
of which they also begged to make me a present. We 
afterwards went to Tom Spring's, from Tom's to the 
Finish, from the Finish to the watchhouse — that is, 
they did, — and sent for me just as I was getting into 
bed to bail them all out." 

They're happy dogs, those young noblemen," said 
Mr. Eglantine ; " nothing but pleasure from morning 
till night ; no affectation, neither, — no hoture ; but 
manly, downright, straightforward good fellows." 

" Should you like to meet them, Tiny, my boy ?" 
said the captain. 

" If I did, sir, I hope I should show myself to be the 
gentleman," answered Mr. Eglantine. 

" Well, you shall meet them, and Lady Billingsgate 
shall order her perfumes at your shop. We are going 
to dine, next week, all our set, at mealy-faced Bob's, and 
you shall be my guest," cried the captain, slapping the 
delighted artist on the back. " And now, my boy, tell 
me how you spent the evening." 

" At my club, sir," answered Mr. Eglantine, blush- 
ing rather. 

" What, not at the play with the lovely black-eyed 
Miss — what is her name, Eglantine ?" 

" Never mind her name, captain," replied Eglantine. 



THE RAVENSWING. 75 

partly from prudence and partly from shame. He had 
not the heart to own it was Crump, and he did not 
care that the captain should know more of his destined 
bride. 

u You wish to keep the five thousand to yourself, 
eh ! you rogue ?" responded the captain, with a good- 
humoured air, although exceedingly mortified ; for, to 
say the truth, he had put himself to the trouble of tell- 
ing the above long story of the dinner, and of promising 
to introduce Eglantine to the lords, solely that he might 
elicit from that gentleman's good-humour some further 
particulars regarding the young lady with the billiard- 
ball eyes. It was for the very same reason, too, that 
he had made the attempt at reconciliation with Mr. 
Mossrose, which had just so signally failed. Nor would 
the reader, did he know Mr. W. better, at all require to 
have the above explanation ; but as yet we are only at 
the first chapter of his history, and who is to know what 
the hero's motives can be unless we take the trouble to 
explain ? 

Well, the little dignified answer of the worthy dealer 
in bergamot, " Never mind her name, captain /" threw 
the gallant captain quite back ; and though he sat for a 
quarter of an hour longer, and was exceeedingly kind ; 
and though he threw out some skilful hints, yet the 
perfumer was quite unconquerable ; or, rather, he was 
too frightened to tell ; the poor, fat, timid, easy, good- 
natured gentleman was always the prey of rogues, — 
panting and floundering in one rascal's snare or an- 
other's. He had the dissimulation, too, which timid 
men have ; and felt the presence of a victimizer as a 
hare does of a greyhound. Now he would be quite 



76 men's wives. 



still, now he would double, and now he would run, and 
then came the end. He knew, by his sure instinct of 
fear, that the captain had, in asking these questions, a 
scheme against him, and so he was cautious, and trem- 
bled, and doubted. And oh ! how he thanked his stars 
when Lady Grogm ore's chariot drove up, with the 
Misses Grogmore, who wanted their hair dressed, and 
were going to a breakfast at three o'clock ! 

" I'll look in again, Tiny," said the captain, on hear- 
ing the summons. 

" Do, captain," replied the other : " thank you ;" 
and went into the lady's studio with a heavy heart. 

" Get out of the way, you infernal villain !" roared 
the captain, with many oaths, to Lady Grogmore's large 
footman, with ruby-coloured tights, who was standing 
inhaling the ten thousand perfumes of the shop; and 
the latter, moving away in great terror, the gallant 
agent passed out, quite heedless of the grin of Mr. 
Mossrose. 

Walker was in a fury at his want of success, and 
walked down Bond Street in a fury. "I will know 
where the girl lives !" swore he. " I'll spend a five- 
pound note, by Jove ! rather than not know where she 
lives !" 

"That you would — I know you would!" said a 
little, grave, low voice, all of a sudden, by his side. 
" Pooh ! what's money to you V 

Walker looked down ; it was Tom Dale. 

Who in London did not know little Tom Dale ? 
He had cheeks like an apple, and his hair curled every 
morning, and a little blue stock, and always two new 
magazines under his arm, and an umbrella and a little 



THE RAVEN SWING. 11 

brown frock coat, and big square-toed shoes with which 
he vr ent papping down the street. He was every where 
at once. Every body met him every day, and he knew 
every thing that every body ever did ; though nobody 
ever knew what he did. He was, they say, a hundred 
years old, and had never dined at his own charge once 
in those hundred years. He looked like a figure out 
of a wax-work, with glassy, clear, meaningless eyes ; he 
always spoke with a grin ; he knew what you had for 
dinner the day before he met you, and what every body 
had had for dinner for a century back almost. He was 
the receptacle of all the scandal of all the world, from 
Bond Street to Breed Street ; he knew all the authors, 
all the actors, all the " notorieties " of the town, and 
the private histories of each. That is, he never knew 
any thing really, but supplied deficiencies of truth and 
memory with ready-coined, never-failing lies. He was 
the most benevolent man in the universe, and never saw 
you without telling you every thing most cruel of your 
neighbour, and when he left you he went to do the 
same kind turn by yourself. 

" Pooh ! what's money to you, rny dear boy f" said 
little Tom Dale, who had just come out of Ebers's, 
where he had been filching an opera-ticket. "You 
make it in bushels in the city, you know you do, — in 
■ thousands. / saw you go into Eglantine's. Fine 
business that ; finest in London. Five shilling cakes of 
soap, my dear boy. / can't wash with such ; thou- 
sands a-year that man has made, — hasn't he?" 

"Upon my word, Tom, I don't know," says the cap- 
tain. 

"You not know ? Don't tell me. You know every 



78 men's wives. 



thing — you agents. Yon know he makes five thousand 
a-year, — ay, and might make ten, but you know why 
he don't." 

"Indeed I don't." 

u Nonsense. Don't humbug a poor old fellow like 
me. Jews — Amos — fifty per cent., ay ? Why can't he 
get his money from a good Christian ?" 

" I have heard something of that sort," said Walker, 
laughing. "Why, by Jove, Tom, you know every 
thing !" 

" You know every thing, my dear boy. You know 
what a rascally trick that opera creature served him, 
poor fellow. Cashmere shawls — Storr and Mortimer's 
— Star and Garter. Much better dine quiet off pea- 
soup and sprats, — ay ? His betters have, as you know 
very well." 

" Pea-soup and sprats ! What, have you heard of 
that already?" 

" Who bailed Lord Billingsgate, ay, you rogue ?" 
and here Tom gave a knowing and almost demoniacal 
grin. " Who wouldn't go to the Finish ? Who had 
the piece of plate presented to him filled with sovereigns ? 
And you deserved it, my dear boy — you deserved it. 
They said it was only halfpence, but / know better !" 
and here Tom went off in a cough. 

"I say, Tom," cried Walker, inspired with a sudden 
thought, " you, who know every thing, and are a the- 
atrical man, did you ever know a Miss Delancy, an ac- 
tress ?" 

" At Sadler's Wells, in '16 ? Of course I did. Real 
name was Budge. Lord Slapper admired her very 
much, my dear boy. She married a man by the name 



THE RAVEN SWING. 79 

of Crump, his lordship's black footman, and brought 
him five thousand pounds ; and they keep the Bootjack 
public-house in Bunker's Buildings, and they've got 
fourteen children. Is one of them handsome, eh, you 
sly rogue, — and is it that which you will give five 
pounds to know ? God bless you, my dear, dear boy. 
Jones, my dear friend, how are you S" 

And now, seizing on Jones, Tom Dale left Mr. 
Walker alone, and proceeded to pour into Mr. Jones's 
ear an account of the individual whom he had just 
quitted ; how he was the best fellow in the world, and 
Jones knew it ; how he was in a fine way of making 
his fortune; how he had been in the Fleet many times 
and how he was at this moment employed in looking 
out for a young lady of whom a certain great marquess 
(whom Jones' knew very well, too) had expressed an 
admiration. 

But for these observations, which he did not hear, 
Captain Walker, it may be pronounced, did not care. 
His eyes brightened up, he marched quickly and gaily 
away ; and turning into his own chambers opposite Eg- 
lantine's shop, saluted that establishment with a grin of 
triumph. " You wouldn't tell me her name, wouldn't 
you ?" said Mr. Walker. " Well, the luck's with me 
now, and here goes." 

Two days after as Mr. Eglantine, with white gloves 
and a case of eau de Cologne as a present in his pocket, 
arrived at the Bootjack Hotel, Little Bunker's Buildings, 
Berkeley Square (for it must out — that was the place 
in which Mr. Crump's inn was situated), he paused for 
a moment at the threshold of the little house of enter- 
tainment, and listened, with beating heart, to the sound 



80 men's wives. 



of delicious music that a well-known voice was uttering 
within. 

The moon was playing in silvery brightness clown 
the gutter of the humble street. A u helper," rubbing 
down one of Lady Srnigsmag's carriage horses,' even 
paused in his whistle to listen to the strain. Mr. 
Tressle's man, who had been professionally occupied, 
ceased his tap-tap upon the coffin which he was getting 
In readiness. The greengrocer (there is always a green- 
grocer in those narrow streets, and he goes out in white 
Berlin gloves as a supernumerary footman) was stand- 
ing charmed at his little green gate ; the cobbler (there 
is always a cobbler, too) was drunk, as usual, of even- 
ings, but, with unusual subordination, never sung 
except when the refrain of the ditty arrived, when he 
hiccupped it forth with tipsy loyalty ; and Eglantine 
leaned against the Chequers painted on the door-side 
under the name of Crump, and looked at the red illu- 
mined curtain of the bar, and the vast, well-known 
shadow of Mrs. Crump's turban within. Now and 
again the shadow of that worthy matron's hand would 
be seen to grasp the shadow of a bottle ; then the shadow 
of a cup would rise towards the turban, and still the 
strain proceeded. Eglantine, I say, took out his yellow 
bandana, and brushed the beady drops from his brow, 
and laid the contents of his white kids on his heart, and 
sighed with ecstatic sympathy. The song began, — 

Come to the greenwood tree,* 
Come where the dark woods be, 
Dearest, oh come with me ! 

* The words of this song are copyright, nor will the copy, 
right be sold for less than twopence-halfpenny, 



THE RAVENSWING. 81 

Let us rove — oh my love — oh my love ! 
Oh my-y love I 
{Drunken cobbler without), Oh, my-y love 1 

" Beast !" says Eglantine. 

Come — 'tis the moonlight hour, 
Dew is on leaf and flower, 
Come to the linden bower, — 
Let us rove — oh my love — oh my love ! 
Let us ro-o-ove, lurlurliety ; yes we'll rove, lurlurliety, 
Through the gro-o-ove, lurlurliety — lurlurli-e-i-e-i-e-i ! 
( Cobbler as usual.) Let us ro-o-ove, &c. 

" You here V says another individual coming clink- 
ing up the street, in a military cut dress-coat, the buttons 
whereof shone very bright in the moonlight. " You 
here, Eglantine ? — You're always here." 

" Hush, Woolsey," said Mr. Eglantine to his rival 
the tailor (for he was the individual in question) ; and 
Woolsey, accordingly, put his back against the opposite 
door-post and Chequers, so that (with poor Eglantine's 
bulk) nothing much thicker than a sheet of paper could 
pass out or in. And thus these two amorous Caryatides 
kept guard as the song continued : — 

Dark is the wood, and wide, 
Dangers, they say, betide ; 
But, at my Albert's side, 
Nought I fear, oh my love — oh my love ! 

Welcome the greenwood tree, 
Welcome the forest free, 
Dearest, with thee, with thee, 
Nought I fear, oh my love — o-h ma-a-y love ! 

4* 



82 men's wives. 



Eglantine's fine eyes were filled with tears as Mor- 
giana passionately uttered the above beautiful words. 
Little Woolsey's eyes glistened, as he clenched his fist 
with an oath, and said, " Show me any singing that 
can beat that. Cobbler, shut your mouth, or I'll break 
your head !" 

But the cobbler, regardless of the threat, continued 
to perform the " Lurlaliety " with great accuracy ; and 
when that was ended, both on his part and Morgi ana's, 
a rapturous knocking of glasses was heard in the little 
bar, then a great claj^ping of hands, and finally, some- 
body shouted " Brava /" 

" Brava !" 

At that word Eglantine turned deadly pale, then 
gave a start, then a rush forward which pinned, or 
rather cushioned, the tailor against the wall ; then twist- 
ing himself abruptly round, he sprung to the door of 
the bar, and bounced into that apartment. 

" How are you, my nosegay P exclaimed the same 
voice which had shouted " Brava." It was that of 
Captain Walker. 

At ten o'clock the next morning a gentleman, with 
the king's button on his military coat, walked abruptly 
into Mr. Eglantine's shop, and, turning on Mr. Mossrose, 
said, " Tell your master I want to see him." 

" He's in his studio," said Mr. Mossrose. 

" Well then, fellow, go and fetch him !" 

And Mossrose, thinking it must be the lord-cham- 
berlain, or Doctor Prsetorius at least, walked into the 
studio, where the perfumer was seated in a very glossy old 
silk dressing-gown, his fair hair hanging over his white 



THE RAVENSWING. 83 

face, his double chin over his flaccid, whity-brown shirt- 
collar, his pea-green slippers on the hob, and, on the 
fire, the pot of chocolate which was simmering for his 
breakfast. A lazier fellow than poor Eglantine it would 
be hard to find ; whereas, on the contrary, Woolsey 
was always up and brushed, spick-and-span, at seven 
o'clock ; and had gone through his books, and given 
out the work for the journeymen, and eaten a hearty 
breakfast of rashers of bacon, before Eglantine had put 
the usual pound of grease to his hair (his fingers were 
always as damp and shiny as if he had them in a po- 
matum-pot), and arranged his figure for the day. 

" Here's a gent wants you in the shop," says Mr. 
Mossrose, having the door of communication wide open. 

" Say I'm in bed, Mr. Mossrose ; I'm out of sper- 
rets, and really can see nobody." 

" It's some one from Vindsor, I think ; he's got the 
royal button," says Mossrose. 

" It's me — Woolsey," shouted the little man from 
the shop. 

Mr. Eglantine at this jumped up, made a rush to 
the door leading to his private apartment, and disap- 
peared in a twinkling. But it must not be imagined 
that he fled in order to avoid Mr. Woolsey. He only 
went away for one minute just to put on his belt, for he 
was ashamed to be seen without it by his rival. 

This being assumed, and his toilet somewhat ar- 
ranged, Mr. Woolsey was admitted into his private 
room. And Mossrose would have heard every word of 
the conversation between those two gentlemen, had not 
Woolsey, opening the door, suddenly pounced on the 
assistant, taken him by the collar, and told him to dis- 



84 

appear altogether into the shop, which Mossrose did, 
vowing he would have his revenge. 

The subject which Woolsey had come to treat was 
an important one. " Mr. Eglantine," says he, " there's 
no use disguising from one another that we are both of 
us in love with Miss Morgiana, and that our chances up 
to this time have been pretty equal. But that captain 
whom you introduced, like an ass as you were w 

" An ass, Mr. Woolsey ? I'd have you to know, 
sir, that I'm no more a hass than you are, sir ; and as 
for introducing the captain, I did no such thing." 

" Well, well, he's got a poaching into our preserves 
somehow. He's evidently sweet upon the young wo- 
man, and is a more fashionable chap than either of us 
two. We must get him out of the house, sir — we must 
circumwent him ; and then, Mr. Eglantine, will be time 
enough for you and me to try which is the best man." 

" He the best man !" thought Eglantine, " the little, 
bald, unsightly tailor-creature ! A. man with no more 
soul than his smoothing-hiron !" But the perfumer, as 
may be imagined, did not utter this sentiment aloud, 
but expressed himself quite willing to enter into any 
hamicahle arrangement, by which the new candidate for 
Miss Crump's favour must be thrown over. It was, ac- 
cordingly, agreed between the two gentlemen that they 
should coalesce against the common enemy ; that they 
should, by reciting many perfectly well-founded stories 
in the captain's disfavour, influence the minds of Miss 
Crump's parents, and of herself, if possible, against this 
wolf in sheep's clothing ; and that, when they were 
once fairly rid of him, each should be at liberty, as be- 
fore, to prefer his own claim. 



THE RAVEN SWING. 85 

" I have thought of a subject," said the little tailor, 
turning very red, and hemming and hawing a great 
deal. " I've thought, I say, of a pint, which may be 
resorted to with advantage at the present juncture, and 
in which each of us may be useful to the other. An 
exchange, Mr. Eglantine, do you take ?" 

" Do you mean an accommodation-bill ?" said Eg- 
lantine, whose mind ran a good deal on that species of 
exchange. 

11 Pooh, nonsense, sir. The name of our firm is, I 
flatter myself, a little more up in the market than some 
other people's names." 

"Do you mean to insult the name of Archibald 
Eglantine, sir ? I'd have you to know that at three 
months " 

" Nonsense !" says Mr. Woolsey, mastering his emo- 
tion ; " there's no use a-quarrelling, Mr. E. ; we're not 
in love with each other, I know that. You w r ish me 
hanged, or as good, I know that !" 

" Indeed I don't, sir !" 

" You do, sir ; I tell you, you do ! and what's more, 
I wish the same to you — transported, at any rate ! But 
as two sailors, when a boat's a-sinking, though they 
hate each other ever so much, will help and bale the 
boat out ; so, sir, let us act : let us be the two sailors." 

" Bail, sir !" said Eglantine, as usual mistaking the 
drift of the argument, " I'll bail no man ! If you're in 
difficulties, I think you had better go to your senior 
partner, Mr. Woolsey ;" and Eglantine's cowardly little 
soul was filled with a savage satisfaction to think that 
his enemy was in distress, and had actually been obliged 
to come to him for succour. 



86 

"You're enough to make Job swear, you great, fat, 
stupid, lazy, old barber !" roared Mr. Woolsey, in a 
fury. 

Eglantine jumped up and made for the bell-rope. 
The gallant little tailor laughed. 

" There's no need to call in Betsy," said he, " I'm 
not a-going to eat you, Eglantine ; you're a bigger man 
than me : if you were just to fall on me, you'd smother 
me ! Just sit still on the sofa and listen to reason." 

" Well, sir, pro-ceed," said the barber, with a gasp. 

" JSTow, listen ! What's the darling wish of your 
heart ? I know it, sir ! you've told it to Mr. Tressle, sir, 
and other gents at the club. The darling wish of your 
heart, sir, is to have a slap- up coat turned out of the 
ateliers of Messrs. Linsey, Woolsey and Company. You 
said you'd give twenty guineas for one of our coats, you 
know you did ! Lord Bolsterton's a fatter man than 
you, and look what a figure we turn him out. Can any 
firm in England dress Lord Bolsterton but us, so as to 
make his lordship look decent ? I defy 'em, sir ! We 
could have given Daniel Lambert a figure !" 

" If I want a coat, sir," said Mr. Eglantine, " and I 
don't deny it, there's some people want a head of 
hair!" 

" That's the very point I was coming to," said the 
tailor, resuming the violent blush which was mentioned 
as having suffused his countenance at the beginning of 
the conversation. "Let us have terms of mutual ac- 
commodation. Make me a wig, Mr. Eglantine, and 
though I never yet cut a yard of cloth except for a 
gentleman, I'll pledge you my word I'll make you a 
coat." 






THE RAVENSWING. 87 

" Will you, honour bright ?" says Eglantine. 

" Honour bright," says the tailor. " Look !" and in 
an instant he drew from his pocket one of those slips 
of parchment which gentlemen of his profession carry, 
and putting Eglantine into the proper position, began to 
take the preliminary observations. He felt Eglantine's 
heart thump with happiness as his measure passed over 
that soft part of the perfumer's person. 

Then putting down the window-blind, and looking 
that the door was locked, and blushing still more deeply 
than ever, the tailor seated himself in an arm-chair to- 
wards which Mr. Eglantine beckoned him, and, taking 
off his black wig, exposed his head to the great perru- 
quier's gaze. Mr. Eglantine looked at it, measured it, 
manipulated it, sat for three minutes with his head in 
his hand and his elbow on his knee gazing at the 
tailor's cranium with all his might, walked round it 
twice or thrice, and then said, " It's enough, Mr. Wool- 
sey, consider the job as done. And now, sir," said he, 
with a greatly relieved air, " and now, Woolsey, let us 
'ave a glass of curacoa to celebrate this hauspicious 
meeting." 

The tailor, however, stiffly replied that he never 
drunk in a morning, and left the room without offering 
to shake Mr. Eglantine by the hand, for he despised 
that gentleman very heartily, and himself, too, for com- 
ing to any compromise with him, and for so far demean- 
ing himself as to make a coat for a barber. 

Looking from his chambers on the other side of the 
street, that inevitable Mr. Walker saw the tailor issuing 
from the perfumer's shop, and was at no loss to guess 
that something extraordinary must be in progress when 
two such bitter enemies met together. 



88 men's wives. 



CHAPTER III. 

WHAT CAME OF MR. WALKER^ DISCOVERY OF THE BOOT- 
JACK. 

It is very easy to state how the captain came to take 
up that proud position at the Bootjack which we have 
seen him occupy on the evening when the sound of the 
fatal "brava" so astonished Mr. Eglantine. 

The mere entry into the establishment was, of 
course, not difficult. Any person by simply uttering 
the words, " A pint of beer," was free of the Bootjack ; 
and it was some such watchword that Howard Walker 
employed when he made his first appearance. He re- 
quested to be shown into a parlour where he might 
repose himself for a while, and was ushered into that 
very sanctum where the Kidney Club met. Then he 
stated that the beer was the best he had ever tasted, 
except in Bavaria, and in some parts of Spain, he added ; 
' and professing to be extremely " peckish," requested to 
know if there were any cold meat in the house whereof 
he could make a dinner. 

" I don't usually dine at this hour, landlord," said 
he, flinging down a half-sovereign for payment of the 
beer ; " but your parlour looks so comfortable and the 
Windsor chairs are so snug, that I'm sure I could not 
dine better at the first club in London." 

" One of the first clubs in London is held in this 
very room," said Mr. Cramp, very well pleased ; " and 



THE RAVENS WING. 89 

attended by some of the best gents in town, too. We 
call it the Kidney Club." 

" Why, bless my soul ! it is the very club my friend, 
Eglantine, has so often talked to me about, and attended 
by some of the tip-top tradesmen of the metropolis !" 

" There's better men here than Mr. Eglantine," re- 
plied Mr. Crump ; " though he's a good man — I don't 
say he's not a good man — but there's better. Mr. 
Clinker, sir; Mr. Woolsey, of the house of Linsey, 
Woolsey and Co." 

"The great army-clothiers!" cried Walker; "the 
first house in town !" and so continued, with exceeding 
urbanity, holding conversation with Mr. Crump, until 
the honest landlord retired delighted, and told Mrs. 
Crump in the bar that there was a tip-top swell in the 
Kidney parlour, who was a-going to have his dinner 
there. 

Fortune favoured the brave captain in every way, it 
was just Mr. Crump's own dinner-hour ; and on Mrs. 
Crump's stepping into the parlour to ask the guest 
whether he would like a slice of the joint to which the 
family were about to sit down, fancy that lady's start of 
astonishment at recognizing Mr. Eglantine's facetious 
friend the day before. The captain at once demanded 
permission to partake of the joint at the family table; 
the lady could not with any great reason deny this re- 
quest ; the captain was inducted into the bar, and Miss 
Crump, who always came down late for dinner, was 
even more astonished than her mamma on beholding 
the occupier of the fourth place at the table. Had she 
expected to see the fascinating stranger so soon again ? 
I think she had. Her big eyes said as much, as, fur- 



90 men's wives. 



tively looking up at Mr. Walker's face, they caught his 
looks ; and then bouncing down again towards her plate, 
pretended to be very busy in looking at the boiled beef 
and carrots there displayed. She blushed far redder 
than those carrots, but her shining ringlets hid her con- 
fusion together with her lovely face. 

Sweet Morgiana! the billiard-ball eyes had a tre- 
mendous effect on the captain. They fell plump, as it 
were, into the pocket of his heart ; and he gallantly pro- 
posed to treat the company to a bottle of champagne, 
which was accepted without much difficulty. 

Mr. Crump, under pretence of going to the cellar 
(where he said he had some cases of the finest cham- 
pagne in Europe), called Dick, the boy, to him, and 
despatched him with all speed to a wine-merchant's, 
where a couple of bottles of the liquor were procured. 

" Bring up two bottles, Mr. C," Captain Walker 
gallantly said when Crump made his move, as it were, 
to the cellar ; and it may be imagined after the two 
bottles were drunk (of which Mrs. Crump took at least 
nine glasses to her share), how happy, merry, and con- 
fidential the whole party had become. Crump told his 
story of the Bootjack, and whose boot it had drawn ; 
the former Miss Delaney expatiated on her past theat- 
rical life, and in the pictures hanging round the room. 
Miss was equally communicative ; and, in short, the 
captain had all the secrets of the little family in his pos- 
session ere sunset. He knew that Miss cared little for 
either of her suitors, about whom mamma and papa 
had a little quarrel. He heard Mrs. Crump talk of 
Morgiana's property, and fell more in love with her than 
ever. Then came tea, the luscious crumpet, the quiet 



THE RAVENSWING. 91 

game at cribbage, and the song — the song which poor 
Eglantine heard, and which caused Woolsey's rage and 
his despair. 

At the close of the evening the tailor was in a greater 
rage, and the perfumer in greater despair than ever. 
He had made his little present of eau de Cologne. 
" Oh, fie !" says the captain, with a horselaugh, H it 
smells of the shop /" He taunted the tailor about his 
wig, and the honest fellow had only an oath to give by 
way of repartee. He told his stones about his club and 
his lordly friends. What chance had either against 
the all-accomplished Howard Walker ? 

Old Crump, with a good innate sense of right and 
wrong, hated the man ; Mrs. Crump did not feel quite 
at her ease regarding him, but Morgiana thought him 
the most delightful person the world ever produced. 

Eglantine's usual morning costume was a blue satin 
neck-cloth, embroidered with butterflies and ornamented 
with a brandy-ball brooch, a light shawl waistcoat, and 
a rhubarb-coloured coat of the sort which I believe are 
called Taglionis, and which have no waist-buttons, ancl 
make a pretence, as it were, to have no waists, but are, 
in reality, adopted by the fat in order to give them a 
waist. Nothing easier for an obese man than to have 
a waist ; he has but to pinch his middle part a little, 
and the very fat on either side pushed violently forward 
makes a waist, as it were, and our worthy perfumer's 
figure was that of a bolster cut almost in two with a 
string. 

Walker presently saw him at his shop-door grinning 
in this costume, twiddling his ringlets with his dumpy 
greasy fingers, glittering with oil and rings, and looking 



92 men's wives. 



so exceedingly contented and happy that the estate- 
agent felt assured some very satisfactory conspiracy had 
been planned between the tailor and him. How was Mr. 
Walker to learn what the scheme was ? Alas ! the poor 
fellow's vanity and delight were such, that he could not 
keep silent as to the cause of his satisfaction, and, rather 
than not mention it at all, in the fulness of his heart he 
would have told his secret to Mr. Mossrose himself. 

" When I get my coat," thought the Bond Street 
Alnaschar, " I'll hire of Snaffle that easy-going cream- 
coloured 'oss that he bought from Astley's, and I'll can- 
ter through the Park, and won't I pass through little 
Bunker's Buildings, that's all ? I'll wear my gray 
trousers with the velvet stripe down the side, and get 
my spurs lacquered up, and with a French polish to my 
boot ; and if I don't do for the captain and the tailor 
too, my name's not Archibald. And I'll tell you what 
I'll do : I'll hire the small Clarence, and invite the 
Crumps to dinner at the Gar and Starter (this was his 
facetious way of calling the Star and Garter), and I'll 
ride by them all the way to Richmond. It's rather a 
long ride, but with Snaffle's soft saddle I can do it 
pretty easy, I dare say." And so the honest fellow 
built castles upon castles in the air ; and the last and 
most beautiful vision of all was Miss Crump " in white 
satting with a horange flower in her 'air," putting him 
in possession of her lovely hand before the altar of St. 
George's, 'Anover Square. As for Woolsey, Eglantine 
determined that he should have the best wig his art 
could produce, for he had not the least fear of his rival. 

These points then being arranged to the poor fellow's 
satisfaction, what does he do but send out for half a quire 



THE RAVEN SWING. 93 

. ■ * 

of pink note-paper, and in a filagree envelop despatch 
a note of invitation to the ladies at the Bootjack : — 

" Bower of Bloom, Bond Street, 
Thursday. 
" Mr. Archibald Eglantine presents his compliments to Mrs. 
and Miss Crump, and requests the honour and pleasure of 
their company at the Star and Garter at Richmond to an early 
dinner on Sunday next. 

" If agreeable, Mr. Eglantine's carnage will be at your door 
at three o'clock, and I propose to accompany them on horseback 
if agreeable likewise." 

This note was sealed with yellow wax, and sent to 
its destination ; and, of course, Mr. Eglantine went him- 
self for the answer in the evening ; and of course he 
told the ladies to look out for a certain new coat he 
was going to sport on Sunday ; and, of course, Mr. 
Walker happens to call the next day with spare tickets 
for Mrs. Crump and her daughter, when the whole 
secret was laid bare to him, how the ladies were going 
to Richmond on Sunday in Mr. Snaffle's Clarence, and 
how Mr. Eglantine was to ride by their side. 

Mr. Walker did not keep horses of his own, his 
magnificent friends at the Regent had plenty in their 
stables, and some of these were at livery at the estab- 
lishment of the captain's old "college" companion Mr. 
Snaffle. It was easy, therefore, for the captain to renew 
his acquaintance with that individual. So, hanging on 
the arm of my Lord Vauxhall, Capt. Walker next day 
made his appearance at Snaffle's livery-stables and 
looked at the various horses there for sale or at bait, 
and soon managed, by putting some facetious questions 
to Mr. Snaffle regarding the Kidney Club, &c, to place 



94 men's wives. 



himself on a friendly footing with that gentleman, and 
to learn from him what horse Mr. Eglantine was to 
ride on Sunday. 

The monster Walker had fully determined in his 
mind that Eglantine should fall off that horse in the 
course of his Sunday's ride. 

" That sing'lar hanimal," said Mr. Snaffle, pointing 
to the old horse, " is the celebrated Hemperor that was 
the wonder of Hastley's some years back, and was 
parted with by Mr. Ducrow honly because his feelin's 
wouldn't allow him to keep him no longer after the 
death of the first Mrs. D., who invariably rode him. I 
bought him, thinking that p'raps ladies and Cockney- 
bucks might like to ride him (for his haction is wonder- 
ful, and he canters like a harm-chair) ; but he's not 
safe on any day except Sundays." 

" And why's that ?" asked Captain "Walker. "Why 
is he safer on Sundays than other days ?" 

"Because there's no music in the streets on Sundays. 
The first gent that rode him found himself dancing a 
quadrille in Hupper Brooke Street to an 'urdy-gurdy 
that was pi ay in ' Cherry ripe,' such is the natur of the 
hanimal. And if you recklect the play of the Battle of 
Hoysterlitz, in which Mrs. D. hacted ' the female hus- 
sar,' you may remember how she and the horse died in 
the third hact to the toon of ' God preserve the Em- 
peror,' from which this horse took his name. Only 
play that toon to him, and he rears hisself up, beats 
the hair in time with his fore legs, and then sinks 
gently to the ground, as though he were carried off by 
a cannon-ball. He served a lady hopposite Hapsley 
Ouse so one day, and since then I've never let him out 



THE RAVENSWING. 95 

to a friend except on Sunday, when, in course, there's 
no danger. Heglantine is a friend of mine, and, of 
course, I wouldn't put the poor fellow on a hanimal I 
couldn't trust." 

After a little more conversation, my lord and his 
friend quitted Mr. Snaffle's, and as they walked away 
towards the Regent, his lordship might be heard shriek- 
ing with laughter, crying " Capital, by jingo ! exthlent ! 
Dwive down in the dwag ! Take Lungly. Worth a 
thousand pound, by Jove !" and similar ejaculations, 
indicative of exceeding delight. 

On Saturday morning, at ten o'clock to a moment, 
Mr. Woolsey called at Mr. Eglantine's with a yellow 
handkerchief under his arm. It contained the best and 
handsomest body-coat that ever gentleman put on. It 
fitted Eglantine to a nicety — it did not pinch him in 
the least, and yet it was of so exquisite a cut that the 
perfumer found, as he gazed delighted in the glass, that 
he looked like a manly, portly, high-bred gentleman — 
a lieutenant-colonel in the army, at the very least. 

"You're a full man, Eglantine," said the tailor, 
delighted, too, with his own work ; " but that can't be 
helped. You look more like Hercules than Falstaff 
now, sir ; and if a coat can make a gentleman, a gen- 
tleman you are. Let me recommend you to sink the 
blue cravat, and take the stripes oft your trousers. 
Dress quiet, sir ; draw it mild. Plain waistcoat, dark 
trousers, black neckcloth, black hat, and if there's a 
better- dressed man in Europe to-morrow I'm a Dutch- 
man." 

"Thank you, Woolsey — thank you, my dear sir," 



96 men's wives. 



said the charmed perfumer. " And now I'll just trouble 
you to try on this here." 

The wig had been made with equal skill ; it was not 
in the florid style which Mr. Eglantine loved in his own 
person, but, as the perfumer said, a simple, straight for- 
ward head of hair. " It seems as if it had grown there 
all your life, Mr. Woolsey ; nobody would tell that it was 
not your nat'ral colour (Mr. Woolsey blushed), it makes 
you look ten year younger ; and as for that scarecrow 
yonder, you'll never, I think, want to wear that again." 

Woolsey looked in the glass and was delighted too. 
The two rivals shook hands and straightway became 
friends, and in the overflowing of his heart the perfumer 
mentioned to the tailor the party which he had arranged 
for the next day, and offered him a seat in the carriage 
and at the dinner at the Star and Garter. " Would 
you like to ride ?" said Eglantine, with rather a conse- 
quential air, " Snaffle will mount you, and we can go 
one on each side of the ladies, if you like." 

But Woolsey humbly said he was not a riding man, 
and gladly consented to take a place in the Clarence 
carriage, provided he was allowed to bear half the ex- 
penses of the entertainment. This proposal was agreed 
to by Mr. Eglantine, and the two gentlemen parted to 
meet once more at the Kidneys that night, when every 
body was edified by the friendly tone adopted between 
them. 

Mr. Snaffle, at the club-meeting, made the very 
same proposal to Mr. Woolsey that the perfumer had 
made ; and stated that as Eglantine was going to ride 
Hemperor, Woolsey, at least, ought to mount too. But 
he was met by the same modest refusal on the tailor's 






THE RAVENSWING. 97 

part, who stated that he had never mounted a horse 
yet, and preferred greatly the use of a coach. 

Eglantine's character as a " swell " rose greatly 
with the club that evening. 

Two o'clock on Sunday came ; the two beaux ar- 
rived punctually at the door to receive the two smiling 
ladies. 

" Bless us, Mr. Eglantine !" said Miss Crump, quite 
struck by him, " I never saw you look so handsome in 
your life." He could have flung his arms around her 
neck at the compliment. " And, law, ma ! what has 
happened to Mr. Woolsey ? doesn't he look ten years 
younger than yesterday ?" Mamma assented, and 
Woolsey bowed gallantly, and the two gentlemen ex- 
changed a nod of hearty friendship. 

The day was delightful. Eglantine pranced, along 
magnificently on his cantering arm-chair, with his hat 
on one ear, his left hand on his side, and his head flung 
over nis shoulder, and throwing under glances at Mor- 
giana whenever the Emperor was in advance of the 
Clarence. The Emperor pricked up his ears a little 
uneasily passing the Ebenezer chapel in Richmond, 
where the congregation were singing a hymn, but be- 
yond this no accident occurred ; nor was Mr. Eglantine 
in the least stiff or fatigued by the time the party 
reached Richmond, where he arrived time enough to 
give his steed into the charge of an hostler, and to pre- 
sent his elbow to the ladies as they alighted from the 
Clarence carriage. 

What this jovial party ate for dinner at the Star 
and Garter need not here be set down. If they did 
not drink champao-no, I am very much mistaken ; 



98 men's wives. 



and if they did, and found it good and cheap, I am 
very much surprised. But they were as merry as any 
four people in Christendom ; and between the bewilder- 
ing attentions of the perfumer, and the manly courtesy 
of the tailor, Morgiana very likely forgot the gallant 
captain, or, at least, was very happy in his absence. 

At eight o'clock they began to drive homewards. 
" WonH you come into the carriage ?" said Morgiana to 
Eglantine, with one of her tenderest looks ; " Dick can 
ride the horse." But Archibald was too great a lover 
of equestrian exercise. " I'm afraid to trust any body 
on this horse," said he, with a knowing look ; and so 
he pranced away by the side of the little carriage. The 
moon was brilliant, and, with the aid of the gas-lamps, 
illuminated the whole face of the country in a way in- 
expressibly lively. 

Presently, in the distance, the sweet and plaintive 
notes of a bugle were heard, and the performer, with 
great delicacy, executed a religious air. " Music, too ! 
heavenly !" said Morgiana, throwing up her eyes to the 
stars. The music came nearer and nearer, and the de- 
light of the company was only more intense. The fly 
was going at about four miles an hour, and the Em- 
peror began cantering to time at the same rapid pace. 

" This must be some gallantry of yours, Mr. Wool- 
sey," said the romantic Morgiana, turning upon that 
gentleman. " Mr. Eglantine treated us to the dinner, 
and you have provided us with the music." 

Now Woolsey had been a little, a very little, dissat- 
isfied, during the course of the evening's entertainment, 
by fancying that Eglantine, a much more voluble person 
than himself, had obtained rather an undue share of the 



THE RAVENSWING. 99 



ladies' favour ; and as lie himself paid half of the 
expenses, he felt very much vexed to think that the per- 
fumer should take all the credit of the business to him- 
self. So when Miss Crump asked if he had provided 
the music, he foolishly made an evasive reply to her 
query, and rather wished her to imagine that he had 
performed that piece of gallantry. " If it pleases you, 
Miss Morgiana," said this artful Schneider, " what more 
need any man ask ? wouldn't I have all Drury Lane 
orchestra to please you ?" 

The bugle had by this time arrived quite close to 
the Clarence carriage, and if Morgiana had looked round 
she might have seen whence the music came. Behind 
her came slowly a drag, or private stage-coach, with 
four horses. Two grooms with cockades and folded 
arms were behind ; and driving on the box, a little gen- 
tleman, with a blue, bird's-eye neckcloth, and a white 
coat. A bugleman was by his side, who performed the 
melodies which so delighted Miss Crump. He played 
very gently and sweetly, and " God save the King " 
trembled so softly out of the brazen orifice of his bugle, 
that the Crumps, the tailor, arid Eglantine himself, who 
was riding close by the carriage, were quite charmed 
and subdued. 

" Thank you, dear Mr. Woolsey," said the grateful 
Morgiana ; which made Eglantine stare, and Woolsey 
was just saying, " Really, upon my word, I've nothing 
to do with it," when the man on the drag-box said to 
the bugleman, " Now !" 

The bugleman began the tune of — 

" Heaven preserve our Emperor Fra-an-cis, 
Rut tnm-ti-tnm-ti-titty-ti." 



100 men's wives. 



At the sound, the Emperor reared himself (with a 
roar from Mr. Eglantine), reared and beat the air with 
his fore-paws ; Eglantine flung his arms round the 
beast's neck, still he kept beating time with his fore- 
paws. Mrs. Crump screamed ; Mr. Woolsey, Dick, the 
Clarence coachman, Lord Vauxhall (for it was he), and 
his lordship's two grooms, burst into a shout of laughter ; 
Morgiana cries " Mercy ! mercy !" Eglantine yells 
" Stop !"— " Wo !"— " O t" and a thousand ejaculations 
of hideous terror ; until, at last, dow r n drops the Em- 
peror stone dead in the middle of the road, as if carried 
off by a cannon-ball. 

Fancy the situation, ye callous souls who laugh at 
the misery of humanity, fancy the situation of poor Eg- 
lantine under the Emperor. He had fallen very easy, 
the animal lay perfectly quiet, and the perfumer was to 
all intents and purposes as dead as the animal. He had 
not fainted, but he was immovable with terror ; he lay 
in a puddle, and thought it was his own blood gushing 
from him ; and he would have lain there until Monday 
morning, if my Lord's grooms descending, had not 
dragged him by the coat-collars from under the beast, 
who still lay quiet. 

" Play ' Charming Judy Callaghan,' will ye ?" says 
Mr. Snaffle's man, the fly-driver ; on W'hich the bugler 
performed that lively air, and up started the horse, and 
the grooms, who w T ere rubbing Mr. Eglantine down 
against a lamp-post, invited him to remount. 

But his heart was too broken for that. The ladies 
gladly made room for him in the Clarence. Dick 
mounted Emperor and rode homewards. The drag, 
too, drove away, playing, " Oh, dear, what can the mat- 



THE RAVENSWING. 101 

ter be ?" and with a scowl of furious hate, Mr. Eglantine 
sat and regarded his rival. His pantaloons were split, 
and his coat torn up the back. 

" Are you hurt much, dear Mr. Archibald ?" said 
Morgiana, with unaffected compassion. 

" N-not much," said the poor fellow, ready to burst 
into tears. 

" Mr. Woolsey," added the good-natured girl, 
" how could you play such a trick V 

" Upon my word," Woolsey began, intending to 
plead innocence ; but the ludicrousness of the situation 
was once more too much for him, and he burst out into 
a roar of laughter. 

" You ! you cowardly beast," howled out Eglantine, 
now driven to fury, " you laugh at me, you miserable 
cretur ! Take that, sir !" and he fell upon him with all 
his might, and well-nigh throttled the tailor, and pum- 
melling his eyes, his nose, his ears, with inconceivable 
rapidity, wrenched, finally, his wig off his head, and 
flung it into the road. 

Morgiana saw that Woolsey had red hair. 
******** 



102 men's wives. 



CHAPTER IV. 

IN WHICH THE HEROINE HAS A NUMBER MORE LOV- , 
ERS, AND CUTS A VERY DASHING FIGURE IN THE 
WORLD. 

Two years have elapsed since the festival at Richmond, 
which, begun so peaceably, ended in such general up- 
roar. Morgiana never could be brought to pardon 
Woolsey's red hair, nor to help laughing at Eglantine's 
disasters, nor could the two gentlemen be reconciled to 
one another. Woolsey, indeed, sent a challenge to the 
perfumer to meet him with pistols, which the latter de- 
clined, saying, justly, that tradesmen had no business 
with such weapons : on this the tailor proposed to meet 
him with coats off, and have it out like men in the 
presence of their friends of the Kidney Club. The per- 
fumer said he would be party to no such vulgar transac- 
tion ; on which, Woolsey, exasperated, made an oath 
that he would tweak the perfumer's nose so surety as 
he ever entered the club-room, and thus one member of 
the Kidneys was compelled to vacate his arm-chair. 

Woolsey himself attended every meeting regularly, 
but he did not evince that gayety and good-humour 
which renders men's company agreeable in clubs. On 
arriving, he would order the boy to " tell him when 
that scoundrel Eglantine came," and, hanging up his 
hat on a peg, would scowl round the room, and tuck 
up his sleeves very high, and stretch, and shake his 



THE RAVEN SWING. 103 

fingers and wrists, as if getting them ready for that pull 
of the nose which he intended to bestow upon his rival. 
So prepared, he would sit down and smoke his pipe 
quite silently, glaring at all, and jumping up, and hitch- 
ing up his coat-sleeves, when any one entered the room. 

The Kidneys did not lite this behaviour. Clinker 
ceased to come. Bustard, the poulterer, ceased to come. 
As for Snaffle, he also disappeared, for Woolsey wished 
to make him answerable for the misbehaviour of Eglan- 
tine, and proposed to him the duel which the latter had 
declined. So Snaffle went. Presently they all went, 
except the tailor and Trestle, who lived down the street, 
and these two would sit and puff their tobacco, one on 
each side of Crump, the landlord, as silent as Indian 
chiefs in a wigwam. There grew to be more and more 
room for poor old Crump in his chair and in his 
clothes ; the Kidneys were gone, and why should he 
remain ? One Saturday he did not come down to pre- 
side at the club (as he still fondly called it), and the 
Saturday following Trestle had made a coffin for him ; 
and Woolsey, with the undertaker by his side, followed 
to the grave the father of the Kidneys. 

Mrs. Crump was now alone in the world. " How 
alone ?" says some innocent and respected reader. Ah ! 
iny dear sir, do you know so little of human nature as 
not to be aware that, one week after the Richmond 
affair, Morgiana married Captain Walker? That did 
she privately, of course ; and, after the ceremony, 
came tripping back to her parents, as young people do 
in plays, and said, "Forgive me, dear pa and ma, I'm 
married, and here is my husband, the captain !" Papa 
and mamma did forgive her, as why shouldn't they ? 



104 men's wives. 



and papa paid over her fortune to her, which she carried 
home delighted to the captain. This happened several 
months before the demise of old Crump ; and Mrs. Cap- 
tain Walker was on the Continent with her Howard 
when that melancholy event took place, hence Mrs. 
Crump's loneliness and unprotected condition. Morgi- 
ana had not latterly seen much of the old people ; how 
could she, moving in her exalted sphere, receive at her 
genteel, new residence in the Edgeware Road, the old 
publican and his wife ? 

Being, then, alone in the world, Mrs. Crump could 
not abear, she said, to live in the house where she had 
been so respected and happy : so she sold the good-will 
of the Sun, and, with the money arising from this sale 
and her own private fortune, being able to muster some 
sixty pounds per annum, retired to the neighbourhood 
of her dear old Sadlers' Wells, where she boarded with 
one of Mrs. Serle's forty pupils. Her heart was broken, 
she said ; but nevertheless, about nine months after Mr. 
Crump's death, the wallflowers, nasturtiums, polyan- 
thuses, and convolvuluses began to blossom under her 
bonnet as usual ; in a year she was dressed quite as fine 
as ever, and now never missed the Wells, or some other 
place of entertainment, one single night, but was as 
regular as the box-keeper. Nay, she was a buxom 
widow still, and an old flame of hers, Fisk, so celebrated 
as pantaloon in Grimaldi's time, but now doing the 
" heavy fathers " at the Wells, proposed to her to ex- 
change her name for his. 

But this proposal the worthy widow declined alto- 
gether. To say truth, she was exceedingly proud of 
her daughter, Mrs. Captain Walker. They did not see 



THE RAVENSWING. 105 

each other much at first ; but every now and then Mrs. 
Crump would pay her visit to the folks in Connaught 
Square; and on the days when "the captain's" lady 
called in the City Road, there was not a single official 
at the " Wells," from the first tragedian down to the 
call-boy, who was not made aware of the fact. 

It has been said that Morgiana carried home her 
fortune in her own reticule, and smiling placed the 
money in her husband's lap ; and hence the reader may 
imagine, who knows Mr. Walker to be an extremely 
selfish fellow, that a great sum of anger must have 
taken place, and many coarse oaths and epithets of 
abuse must have come from him, when he found that 
five hundred pounds was all that his wife had, although 
he had expected five thousand with her. But, to say 
the truth, Walker was at this time almost in love with 
his handsome, rosy, good-humoured, simple wife. They 
had made a fortnight's tour, during which they had 
been exceedingly happy ; and there was something so 
frank and touching in the way in which the kind crea- 
ture flung her all into his lap, saluting him with a hearty 
embrace at the same time, and wishing that it were a 
thousand billion, billion times more, so that her darling 
Howard might enjoy it, that the man would have 
been a ruffian indeed could he have found it in his heart 
to be angry with her ; and so he kissed her in return, 
and patted her on the shining ringlets, and then counted 
over the notes with rather a disconsolate air, and ended 
by locking them up in his portfolio. In fact, she had 
never deceived him ; Eglantine had, and he in return 
had out-tricked Eglantine ; and so warm were his affec- 
tions for Morgiana at this time, that, upon my word 
5* 



106 men's wives. 



and honour, I don't think he repented of his bargain. 
Besides, five hundred pounds in crisp bank-notes was a 
sum of money such as the captain was not in the habit 
of handling every day ; a dashing, sanguine fellow, he 
thought there was no end to it, and already thought of 
a dozen ways by which it should increase and multiply 
into a plumb. Woe is me ! Has not many a simple 
soul examined five new hundred-pound notes in this 
way, and calculated their powers of duration and mul- 
tiplication ! 

This subject, however, is too painful to be dwelt on. 
Let us hear what Walker did with his money. Why, 
he furnished the house in the Edgeware Road before 
mentioned, he ordered a handsome service of plate, he 
sported a phaeton and two ponies, he kept a couple 
of smart maids and a groom foot-boy, — in fact, he 
mounted just such a neat, unpretending, gentlemanlike 
establishment as becomes a respectable young couple 
on their outset in life. " I've sown my wild oats," he 
would say to his acquaintances ; " a few years since, 
perhaps, I would have longed to cut a dash, but now 
prudence is the word ; and I've settled every farthing 
of Mrs. Walker's fifteen thousand on herself." And the 
best proof that the world had confidence in him is the 
fact, that for the articles of plate, equipage, and furniture, 
which have been mentioned as being in his possession, 
he did not pay one single shilling ; and so prudent wns 
he, that but for turnpikes, postage-stamps, and king's 
taxes, he hardly had occasion to change a five-pound 
note of his wife's fortune. 

To tell the truth, Mr. Walker had determined to 
make his fortune. And what is easier in London ? Is 



THE RAVENSWING. 107 

not the share-market open to all ? Do not Spanish and 
Columbian bonds rise and fall ? For what are compa- 
nies invented but to place thousands in the pockets of 
shareholders and directors ? Into these commercial 
pursuits the gallant captain now plunged witji great 
energy, and made some brilliant hits at first starting, 
and bought and sold so opportunely, that his name 
began to rise in the city as a capitalist, and might be 
seen in the printed list of directors of many excellent 
and philanthropic schemes, of which there is never any 
lack in London. Business to the amount of thousands 
was done at his agency ; shares of vast value were 
bought and sold under his management. How poor 
Mr. Eglantine used to hate him and envy him, as from 
the door of his emporium (the firm was Eglantine and 
Mossrose now) he saw the captain daily arrive in his 
pony -phaeton, and heard of the start he had taken in life. 

The only regret Mrs. Walker had was that she did 
not enjoy enough of her husband's society. His business 
called him away all day ; his business, too, obliged him 
to leave her of evenings very frequently, but while (al- 
ways in pursuit of business) he was dining with his 
great friends at the club, and drinking claret and cham- 
pagne to the same end. 

She was a perfectly good-natured and simple soul, 
and never made him a single reproach ; but when he 
could pass an evening at home with her she was de- 
lighted, and when he could drive with her in the Park 
she was happy for a week after. On these occasions, 
and in the fulness of her heart, she would drive to her 
mother and tell her story. u Howard drove with me in 
the Park yesterday, mamma;" "Howard has promised 



108 men's wives. 



to take Hie to the Opera," and so forth. And that even- 
ing the manager, Mr. Gawler, the first tragedian, Mrs. 
Serle and her forty pupils, all the box-keepers, bonnet- 
women — nay, the ginger-beer girls themselves at the 
Wells, knew that Captain and Mrs. Walker were at 
Kensington Gardens, or were to have the Marchioness 
of Billingsgate's box at the Opera. One night — oh ! 
joy of joys ! — Mrs. Captain Walker appeared in a pri- 
vate box at the Wells. That's she with the black ring- 
lets and Cashmere shawl, smelling-bottle, black velvet 
gown, and bird of paradise in her hat. Goodness gra- 
cious ! how they all acted at her, Gawler and all, and 
how happy Mrs. Crump was ! She kissed her daughter 
between all the acts, she nodded to all her friends on 
the stage, in the slips, or in the real water ; she intro- 
duced her daughter, Mrs. Captain Walker, to the box- 
opener, and Melvii Delamere (the first comic), Conter- 
field (the tyrant), and Jonesini (the celebrated Font- 
arabian statuesque), were all on the steps, and shouted 
for Mrs. Captain Walker's carriage, and waved their 
hats, and bowed as the little pony-phaeton drove away. 
Walker, in his moustachios, had come in at the end of 
the play, and was not a little gratified by the compli- 
ments paid to himself and lady. 

Among the other articles of luxury with which the 
captain furnished his house we must not omit to mention 
an extremely grand piano, which occupied four-fifths of 
Mrs. Walker's little back drawing-room, and at which 
she was in the habit of practising continually. All day 
and all night during Walker's absences (and these oc- 
curred all night and all day) you might hear — the 
whole street might hear — the voice of the lady at No. 



THE RAVENS WING. 109 

23 gurgling, and shaking, and quavering, as ladies do 
when they practise. The street did not approve of the 
continuance of the noise, but neighbours are difficult to 
please, and what would Morgiana have had to do if she 
had ceased to sing ? It would be hard to lock a black- 
bird in a cage and prevent him from singing too. And 
so Walker's blackbird, in the snug little cage in the 
Edgeware Road, sung and was not unhappy. 

After the pair had been married for about a year, 
the omnibus that passes both by Mrs. Crump's house, 
near the Wells, and by Mrs. Walker's street off the 
Edgeware Road, brought up the former-named lady al- 
most every day to her daughter. She came when the 
captain had gone to his business ; she staid to a two 
o'clock dinner with Morgiana, she drove with her in 
the pony-carriage round the Park, but she never stop- 
ped later than six. Had she not to go to the play at 
seven ? And, besides, the captain might come home 
with some of his great friends, and he always swore and 
grumbled much if he found his mother-in-law on the 
premises. As for Morgiana, she was one of those 
women who encourage despotism in husbands. What 
the husband says must be right, because he says it ; 
what he orders must be obeyed tremblingly. Mrs. 
Walker gave up her entire reason to her lord. Why 
was it ? Before marriage she had been an independent 
little person ; she had far more brains than her Howard. 
I think it must have been his moustachios that fright- 
ened her and caused in her this humility. 

Selfish husbands have this advantage in maintaining 
with easy-minded wives a rigid and inflexible behaviour, 
\ iz. that, if they do by any chance grant a little favour, 



110 men's wives. 



the ladies receive it with such transports of gratitude as 
they would never think of showing to a lord and mas- 
ter who was accustomed to give them every thing they 
asked for ; and hence, when Captain Walker signified 
his assent to his wife's prayer that she should take a 
singing-master, she thought his generosity almost divine, 
and fell upon her mamma's neck, when that lady came 
the next day, and said what a dear adorable angel her 
Howard was, and what ought she not to do for a man 
who had taken her from her humble situation, and 
raised her to be what she was ! What she was, poor 
soul ! She was the wife of a swindling parvenu gentle- 
man. She received visits from six ladfes of her hus- 
band's acquaintances, the two attorneys' ladies, his bill- 
broker's lady, and one or two more, of whose characters 
we had best, if you please, say nothing ; and she thought 
it an honour to be so distinguished, as if Walker had 
been a Lord Exeter to marry a humble maiden, or a 
noble prince to fall in love with a humble Cinderella, 
or a majestic Jove to come down from heaven and woo 
a Semele. Look through the world, respectable reader, 
and among your honourable acquaintances, and say if 
this sort of faith in women is not very frequent ? They 
will believe in their husbands, whatever the latter do. 
Let John be dull, ugly, vulgar, and a humbug, his 
Mary Anne never finds it out ; let him tell his stories 
ever so many times, there is she always ready with her 
kind smile ; let him be stingy, she says he is prudent; 
let him quarrel with his best friend, she says he is al- 
ways in the right ; let him be prodigal, she says he is 
generous, and that his health requires enjoyment; let 
him be idle, he must have relaxation ; and she will 



THE RAVEN SWING. Ill 

pinch herself and her household that he may have a 
guinea for his club. Yes ; and every morning, as she 
wakes and looks at the bristly, coarse, mottled, red- 
nosed face, snorting under the night-cap on the pillow 
by her side — every morning, I say, she blesses that dull, 
ugly countenance, and the dull ugly soul reposing 
there, and thinks both are something divine. I want 
to know how it is that women do not find out their 
husbands to be humbugs ? Nature has so provided it, 
and thanks to her. When last year they were acting 
the Midsummer NigM s Dream, and all the boxes began 
to war with great coarse heehaws at Titania hugging 
Bottom's long ears — to me, considering these things, 
it seemed that there were a hundred other male brutes 
squatted round about, and treated just as reasonably as 
Bottom was. Their Titanias lulled them to sleep in 
their laps, summoned a hundred smiling, delicate, house- 
hold fairies to tickle their gross intellects and minister 
to their vulgar pleasures ; and (as the above remarks are 
only supposed to apply to honest women loving their 
own lawful spouses) a mercy it is that no wicked Puck 
fa in the way to open their eyes, and point out their 
folly. Cuibono? let them live on in their deceit ; I 
know two lovely ladies who will read this, and will say 
ft jy just very likely, and not see in the least that it had 
been written regarding them. 

Another point of sentiment, and one curious to 
speculate on. Have you not remarked the immense 
works of art that women get through ? The worsted- 
work sofas, the counterpanes patched or knitted (but 
these are among the old-fashioned in the country), the 
bushels of pincushions, the albums they laboriously fill, 



112 men's wives. 



the tremendous pieces of music they practise, the thou- 
sand other fiddle-faddles which occupy the attention of 
the dear souls — nay, have we not seen them seated 
of evenings in a squad or company, Louisa employed 
at the worsted- work before mentioned, Eliza at the pin- 
cushions, Amelia at card-racks or filagree matches, and, 
in the midst, Theodosia, with one of the candles, read- 
ing out a novel aloud ? Ah ! my dear sir, mortal crea- 
tures must be very hard put to it for amusement, be 
sure of that, when they are forced to gather together in 
a company and hear novels read aloud ! They only do 
it because they can't help it, depend upon it ; it is a 
sad life, a poor pastime. Mr. Dickens, in his American 
book, tells of the prisoners at the silent prison, how 
they had ornamented their rooms, some of them with 
a frightful prettiness and elaboration. Women's fancy- 
work is of this sort often — only prison work, done be- 
cause there was no other exercising-ground for their 
poor little thoughts and fingers ; and hence these won- 
derful pincushions are executed, these counterpanes 
woven, these sonatas learned. By every thing senti- 
mental, when I see two kind, innocent, fresh-cheeked 
young women go to a piano and sit down opposite to it 
upon two chairs piled with more or less music-books 
(according to their convenience), and, so seated, go 
through a set of double-barrelled variations upon this 
tune or that by Herz or Kalkbrenner, — I say, far from 
receiving any satisfaction at the noise made by the per- 
formance, my too susceptible heart is given up entirely 
to bleeding for the performers. What hours, and weeks, 
nay, preparatory years of study, has that infernal jingle 
cost them ! What sums has papa paid, what scoldings 



THE RAVENSWING. 113 

has mamma administered (" Lady Bullblock does not 
play herself," Sir Thomas says, " but she has naturally 
the finest ear for music ever known !") ; what evidences 
of slavery, in a word, are there ! It is the condition of 
the young lady's existence. She breakfasts at eight, 
she does MagnalVs Questions with the governess till 
ten, she practises till one, she walks in the square with 
bars round her till two, then she practises again, then 
she sows or hems, or reads French, or Hume's History, 
then she comes down to play to papa, because he likes 
music whilst he is asleep after dinner, and then it is 
bed-tirne, and the morrow is another day with what 
are called the same " duties " to be gone through. A 
friend of mine went to call at a nobleman's house the 
other day, and one of the young ladies of the house 
came into the room with a tray on her head, this tray 
was to give Lady Maria a graceful carriage. Mon Dieu ! 
and who knows but at that moment Lady Bell was at 
work with a pair of her dumb namesakes, and Lady 
Sophy lying flat on a stretching-board ? I could write 
whole articles on this theme, but peace! we are keep- 
ing Mrs. Walker waiting all the while. 

Well, then, if the above disquisitions have any thing 
to do with the story, as no doubt they have, I wish it 
to be understood that, during her husband's absence 
and her own solitary confinement, Mrs. Howard Walker 
bestowed a prodigious quantity of her time and energy 
on the cultivation of her musical talent, and having, as 
before stated, a very fine loud voice, speedily attained 
no ordinary skill in the use of it. She first had for 
teacher little Podmore, the fat chorus-master at the 
Wells, and who had taught her mother the " Tink a 



114 men's wives. 



tink" song which has been such a favourite since it 
appeared in this Magazine. He grounded her well, 
and bade her eschew the singing of all those Eagle 
Tavern ballads in which her heart formerly delighted, 
and when he had brought her to a certain point of 
skill, the honest little chorus-master said she should have 
a still better instructor, and wrote a note to Captain 
Walker (inclosing his own little account), speaking in 
terms of the most flattering encomium of his lady's pro- 
gress, and recommending that she should take lessons 
of the celebrated Baroski. Captain Walker dismissed 
Podmore then, and engRged Signor Baroski, at a vast 
expense, as he did not fail to tell his wife. In fact, he 
owed Baroski no less than a hundred-and-twenty 
guineas when he came to file his Sched * * * But we 
are advancing matters. 

Little Baroski is the author of the opera of Elioga- 
balo, of the oratorio of Purgatorio, which made such an 
immense sensation, of songs and ballet-musics innu- 
merable. He is a German by birth, and shows such 
an outrageous partiality for pork and sausages, and at- 
tends at church so constantly, that I am sure there can- 
not be any foundation in the story that he is a member 
of the ancient religion. He is a fat little man, with a 
hooked nose and jetty whiskers, and coal-black shining 
eyes, and plenty of rings and jewels on his fingers and 
about his person, and a very considerable portion of his 
shirt-sleeves turned over his coat to take the air. His 
great hands (which can sprawl over half a piano, and 
produce those effects on the instrument for which he is 
celebrated) are encased in lemon-coloured kids, new, or 
cleaned daily. Parenthetically, let us ask why so many 



THE RAVENSWING. 115 

men with coarse red wrists and big hands persist in the 
white kid glove and wristband system ? Baroski's gloves 
alone must cost him a little fortune ; only, he says with 
a leer, when asked the question, " Get along vid you ; 
don't you know dere is a glovers that lets me have dem 
very sheap V He rides in the Park ; has splendid 
lodgings in Dover Street ; and is a member of the lie- 
gent Club, where he is a great source of amusement to 
the members, to whom he tells astonishing stories of 
his successes with the ladies, and for whom he has al- 
ways play and opera tickets in store. His eye glistens 
and his little heart beats when a lord speaks to him ; 
and he has been known to spend large sums of money 
in giving treats to young sprigs of fashion at Richmond 
and elsewhere. " In my bolyticks," he says, " I am 
consarevatiff to de bag-bone." In fine, he is a puppy, 
and withal a man of considerable genius in his profes- 
sion. 

This gentleman then undertook to complete the 
musical education of Mrs. Walker. He expresses him- 
self at once " enshanted vid her gababilities," found that 
the extent of her voice w 7 as " brodigious," and guaran- 
teed that she should become a first-rate singer. The 
pupil was apt, the master was exceedingly skilful ; and, 
accordingly, Mrs. Walker's progress was very remarka- 
ble ; although, for her part, honest Mrs. Crump, who 
used to attend her daughter's lessons, would grumble 
not a little at the new system, and the endles exercises 
which she, Morgiana, was made to go through. It was 
very different in her time, she said. Incledon knew 
no music, and who could sing so \7ell now ? Give her 
a good English ballad ; it was a thousand times sweeter 
than your Figaros and Semiramides. 



116 men's wives. 



In spite of these objections, however, and with amaz- 
ing perseverance and cheerfulness, Mrs. Walker pursues 
the method of study pointed out to her by her master. 
As soon as her husband went to the city in the morn- 
ing her operations began ; if he remained away at din- 
ner her labours still continued ; nor is it necessary for 
me to particularize her course of study, nor, indeed, 
possible, for, between ourselves, none of the male Fitz- 
Boodles ever could sing a note, and the jargon of scales 
and solfeggios is quite unknown to me. But as no 
man can have seen persons addicted to music without 
remarking the prodigious energies they display in the 
pursuit, as there is no father of daughters, however ig- 
norant, but is aware of the piano-rattling and voice-ex- 
ercising which goes on in his house from morning til] 
night, so let all fancy, without further inquiry, how the 
heroine of this our story was at this stage of her exist- 
ence occupied. 

Walker was delighted with her progress, and did 
every thing but pay Baroski, her instructor. We know 
why he didn't pay. It was his nature not to pay bills, 
except on extreme compulsion ; but why did not Baroski 
employ that extreme compulsion ? Because, if he had 
received his money, he would have lost his pupil, and 
because he loved his pupil more than money. Bather 
than lose her, he would have given her a guinea as well 
as her cachet He would sometimes disappoint a great 
personage, but he never missed his attendance on her ; 
and the truth must out, that he was in love with her, 
as Woolsey and Eglantine had been before. 

" By de immortel Chofe !" he would say, " dat letell 
ding sents me mad vid her big ice ! But only vait avile, 



THE RAVENSWING. 11 1 

in six veeks I can bring any voman in England on her 
knees to me ; and you shall see vat I vill do vid my 
Morgiana." He attended her for six weeks punctually, 
and yet Morgiana was never brought down on her 
knees ; he exhausted his best stock of " gomblimends," 
and she never seemed disposed to receive them with 
any thing but laughter. And, as a matter of course, 
he only grew more infatuated with the lovely creature 
who was so provokingly good-humoured and so laugh- 
ingly cruel. 

Benjamin Baroski was one of the chief ornaments of 
the musical profession in London ; he charged a guinea 
for a lesson of three-quarters of an hour abroad, and he 
had, furthermore, a school at his own residence, where 
pupils assembled in considerable numbers, and of that 
curious mixed kind which those may see who frequent 
these places of instruction. There were very innocent 
young ladies with their mammas, who would hurry them 
off trembling to the farther corner of the room when 
certain doubtful professional characters made their ap- 
pearance. There was Miss Grigg, who sung at the 
Foundling, and Mr. Johnson, who sung at the Eagle 
Tavern, and Madame Fioravanti (a very doubtful char- 
acter), who sung nowhere, but was always coming out 
at the Italian Opera. There was Lumley Limpiter 
(Lord Tweedledale's son) one of the most accomplished 
tenors in town, and whom, we have heard, sings with 
the professionals at a hundred concerts ; and with him, 
too, was Captain Guzzard of the Guards, with his tre- 
mendous bass voice, which all the world declared to 
be as fine as Porto's, and who shared the applauses of 
Baroski's school, with Mr. Bulger, the dentist of Snck- 



118 men's wives. 



ville Street, who neglected his ivory and gold plates for 
his voice, as every unfortunate individual will do who 
is bitten by the music mania. Then among the ladies 
there were a half-score of dubious pale governesses 
and professionals with turned frocks and lank damp 
bandeaux of hair under shabby little bonnets ; luckless 
creatures these, who were parting with their poor little 
store of half-guineas to be enabled to say they were 
pupils of Signor Baroski, and so get pupils of their own 
among the British youths, or employment in the cho- 
ruses of the theatres. 

The prima donna of the little company was Amelia 
Larkins, Baroski's own articled pupil, on whose future 
reputation the eminent master staked his own, whose 
profits he was to share, and whom he had farmed, to 
this end, from her father, a most respectable sheriff's 
officer's assistant, and now, by his daughter's exertions, 
a considerable capitalist. Amelia is blonde and blue- 
eyed, her complexion is as bright as snow, her ringlets of 

the colour of straw, her figure but why describe her 

figure ? Has not all the world seen her at the theatres 
royal and in America under the name of Miss Legonier ? 

Until Mrs. Walker arrived, Miss Larkins was the 
undisputed princess of the Baroski company — the Semi- 
ramide, the Rosina, the Tamina, the Donna Anna. 
Baroski vaunted her every where as the great rising 
genius of the day, bade Catalani look to her laurels, 
and questioned whether Miss Stephens could sing a 
ballad like his pupil. Mrs. Howard Walker arrived, 
and created, on the first occasion, no small sensation. 
She improved, and the little society became speedily 
divided into Walkerites and Larkinsians ; and between 



THE RAVENSWING. 119 

these two ladies (as, indeed, between Guzzard and Bul- 
ger before mentioned, between Miss Brunck and Miss 
Horsman, the two contraltos, and between the chorus- 
singers, after their kind) a great rivalry arose. Larkins 
was certainly the better singer ; but could her straw- 
coloured curls and dumpy, high-shouldered figure bear 
any comparison with the jetty ringlets and stately form 
of Morgiana ? Did not Mrs. Walker, too, come to the 
music-lesson in her carriage, and with a black velvet 
gowm and Cashmere shawl, while poor Larkins meekly 
stepped from Bell Yard, Temple Bar, in an old print 
gown and clogs, which she left in the hall ? " Larkins 
sing !" said Mrs. Crump, sarcastically. " I'm sure she 
ouo-ht ; her mouth's bio* enough to sin a; a duet." Poor 
Larkins had no one to make epigrams in her behoof; 
her mother was at home tending the younger ones, her 
father abroad following the studies of his profession, 
she had but one protector, as she thought, and that one 
was Baroski. Mrs. Crump did not fail to tell Lumley 
Limpiter of her own former triumphs, and to sing him 
" Tink-a-tink," which we have previously heard, and to 
state how in former days she had been called the Ra- 
venswing. And Lumley, on this hint, made a poem, 
in which he compared Morgiana's hair to the plumage 
of the Ravenswing, and Larkinissa's to that of the cana- 
ry ; by which tw r o names the ladies began soon to be 
known in the school 

Ere long, the flight of the Ravenswing became evi- 
dently stronger, whereas that of the canary was seen 
evidently to droop. When Morgiana sung, all the room 
would cry " bravo ;" when Amelia performed, scarce a 
hand was raised for applause of her, except Morgiana's 



120 men's wives. 



own, and that the Larkinses thought was lifted in odious 
triumph rather than in sympathy, for Miss L. was of 
an envious turn, and little understood the generosity of 
her rival. 

At last, one day, the crowning victory of the Ra- 
venswing came. In the trio of Baroski's own opera of 
Mioc/abalo, " Rosy lips and rosy wine," Miss Larkins, 
who was evidently unwell, was taking the part of the 
English captive, which she had sung in public concerts 
before royal dukes, and with considerable applause, 
and, from reason, performed it so ill, that Baroski, slap- 
ping down the music on the piano in a fury, cried, 
" Mrs. Howard Walker, as Miss Larkins cannot sing to- 
day, will you favour us by taking the part of Boadi- 
cetta V Mrs. Walker got up smilingly to obey — the 
triumph was too great to be withstood ; and, as she 
advanced to the piano, Miss Larkins looked wildly at 
her, and stood silent for awhile, and, at last, shrieked 
out " Benjamin /" in a tone of extreme agony, and 
dropped fainting down on the ground. Benjamin 
looked extremely red, it must be confessed, at being 
thus called by what we shall denominate his Christian 
name, and Limpiter looked round at Guzzard, and Miss 
Brunck nudged Miss Horsuian, and the lesson con- 
cluded rather abruptly that day, for Miss Larkins was 
carried off to the next room, laid on a couch, and 
sprinkled with water. 

" Good-natured Morgiana insisted that her mother 
should take Miss Larkins to Bell Yard in her carriage, 
and went herself home on foot ; but I don't know that 
this piece of kindness prevented Larkins from hating 
her. I should doubt if it did. 



THE RAVENSWING. 121 

Hearing so much of his wife's skill as a singer, the 
astute Captain Walker determined to take advantage of 
it for the purpose of increasing his " connexion." He had 
Lumley Limpiter at his house before long, which was, 
indeed, no great matter, for honest Lum would go any- 
where for a good dinner, and an opportunity to show 
off his voice afterwards, and Lumley was begged to 
bring any more clerks in the Treasury of his acquaint- 
ance ; Captain Guzzard was invited, and any officers of 
the Guards whom he might choose to bring ; Bulger 
received occasional cards ; — in a word, and after a short 
time, Mrs. Howard Walker's musical parties began to 
be considerably suivies. Her husband had the satis- 
faction to see his rooms filled by many great personages ; 
and once or twice in return (indeed, whenever she was 
wanted, or when people could not afford to hire the 
first singers) she was asked to parties elsewhere, and 
treated with that killing civility which our English 
aristocracy knows how to bestow on artists. Clever 
and wise aristocracy ! It is sweet to mark your ways, 
and study your commerce with inferior men. 

I was just going to commence a tirade regarding 
the aristocracy here, and to rage against that cool as- 
sumption of superiority which distinguishes their lord- 
ships' commerce with artists of all sorts, that politeness 
which, if it condescend to receive artists at all, takes 
care to have them altogether, so that there can be no 
mistake about their rank — that august patronage of 
art which rewards it with a silly flourish of knighthood, 
to be sure, but takes care to exclude it from any con- 
tact with its betters in society — I was, I say, just going 
to commence a tirade against the aristocracy far ex- 
6 



122 men's wives. 



eluding artists from their company, and to be extremely 
satirical upon them, for instance, for not receiving my 
friend Morgiana, when it suddenly came into my head 
to ask, was Mrs. Walker fit to move in the best society ? 
— to which query it must humbly be replied that she 
was not. Her education was not such as to make her 
quite the equal of Baker Street. She was a kind, 
honest, and clever creature ; but, it must be confessed, 
not refined. Wherever she went she had, if not the 
finest, at any rate the most showy gown in the room ; 
her ornaments were the biggest ; her hats, togues, 
berets, marabouts, and other fallals, always the most 
conspicuous. She drops " h's" here and there. I have 
seen her eat peas with a knife (and Walker, scowling 
on the opposite side of the table, striving in vain to 
catch her eye) ; and I shall never forget Lady Smig- 
mag's horror when she asked for porter at dinner, and 
began to drink it out of the pewter-pot. It was a fine 
sight. She lifted up the tankard with one of the finest 
arms, covered with the biggest bracelets ever seen ; and 
had a bird-of-paradise on her head, that curled round 
the pewter-disk of the pot as she raised it, like a halo. 
These peculiarities she had, and has still. She is best 
away from the genteel world, that is the fact. When 
she says that " The weather is so 'ot that it is quite de- 
biliating ;" when she laughs, when she hits her neigh- 
bour at dinner on the side of the waistcoat (as she will 
if he should say any thing that amuses her), she does 
what is perfectly natural and unaffected on her part, 
but what is not customarily done among polite persons. 
Who can sneer at her odd manners and her vanity, but 
don't know the kindness, honesty, and simplicity, which 



THE RAVENSWING. 123 

distinguish her ? This point being admitted, it follows, 
of course, that the tirade against the aristocracy would, 
in the present instance, be out of place — so it shall be 
reserved for some other occasion. 

The Ravenswing was a person admirably disposed 
by nature to be happy. She had a disposition so 
kindly that any small attention would satisfy it ; was 
pleased when alone ; was delighted in a crowd ; was 
charmed with a joke, however old ; was always ready 
to laugh, to sing, to dance, or to be merry ; was so ten- 
der-hearted that the smallest ballad would make her cry, 
and hence was supposed, by many persons, to be ex- 
tremely affected, and by almost all, to be a downright 
coquette. Several competitors for her favour presented 
themselves besides Baroski, young dandies used to can- 
ter round her phaeton in the park, and might be seen 
haunting her doors in the mornings. The fashionable 
artist of the day made a drawing of her, which was 
engraved and sold in the shops ; a copy of it was 
printed in a song, " Black-eyed Maiden of Araby," the 
words by Desmond Mulligen, Esq., the music composed 
and dedicated to Mrs. Howard Walker, by her most 
faithful and obliged servant, Benjamin Baroski, and at 
night her Opera-box was full. Her Opera-box ? Yes, 
the heiress of the Bootjack actually had an Opera-box, 
and some of the most fashionable manhood of London 
attended it. 

Now, in fact, was the time of her greatest pros- 
perity ; and her husband, gathering these fashionable 
characters about him, extended his " agency" consid- 
erably, and began to thank his stars that he had mar- 
ried a woman who was as good as a fortune to him. 



124 men's wives. 



In extending his agency, however, Mr. Walker in- 
creased his expenses proportionally, and multiplied his 
debts accordingly. More furniture and more plate, 
more wines and more dinner-parties, became necessary ; 
the little pony phaeton was exchanged for a brougham 
of evenings ; and we may fancy our old friend Mr. Eg- 
lantine's rage and disgust, as he looked up from the pit 
of the Opera, to see Mrs. Walker surrounded by what 
he called " the swell young nobs " about London, bow- 
ing to my lord, and laughing with his grace, and led to 
her carriage by Sir John. 

The Ravenswing's position at this period was rather 
an exceptionable one. She was an honest woman, 
visited by that peculiar class of our aristocracy who 
chiefly associate with ladies who are not honest. She 
laughed with all, but she encouraged none. Old Crump 
was constantly at her side now when she appeared in 
public, the most watchful of mammas, always awake at 
the Opera, though she seemed to be always asleep ; but 
no dandy debauchee could deceive her vigilance, and 
for this reason, Walker, who disliked her, as every man 
naturally will, must, and should dislike his mother-in- 
law, was contented to surfer her in his house to act as 
a chaperon to Morgiana. 

None of the young dandies ever got admission of 
mornings to the little mansion in the Edgeware Eoad ; 
the blinds were always down, and though you might 
hear Morgi ana's voice half across the Park as she was 
practising. Yes ! the youthful hall-porter, in the sugar- 
loaf buttons, was instructed to deny her, and always 
declared that his mistress was gone out, with the most 
admirable assurance. 



THE HAVEN SWING. 125 



After some two years of her life of splendour, there 
were, to be sure, a good number of morning visitors 
who came with single knocks, and asked for Captain 
Walker, but these were no more admitted than the 
dandies aforesaid, and were referred, generally, to the 
captain's office, whither they went or not at their con- 
venience. The only man who obtained admission into 
the house was Baroski, whose cab transported him 
thrice a week to the neighbourhood of Con naught 
Square, and who obtained ready entrance in his profes- 
sional capacity. 

But even then, and much to the wicked little music- 
master's disappointment, the dragon Crump was always 
at the piano with her endless worsted work, or else read- 
ing her unfailing Sunday Times ; and Baroski could only 
employ "de langvitch of de ice," as he called it, with his 
fair pupil, who used to mimic his manner of rolling his 
eyes about afterwards, and perform " Baroski in love," 
for the amusement of her husband and her mamma. 
The former had his reasons for overlooking the atten- 
tions of the little music-master ; and as for the latter, 
had she not been on the stage, and had not many hun- 
dreds of persons, in jest or earnest, made love to her? 
"What else can a pretty woman expect, who is much 
before the public ? And so the worthy mother coun- 
selled her daughter to bear these attentions with good 
humour, rather than to make them a subject of perpetual 
alarm and quarrel. 

Baroski, then, was allowed to go on being in love, 
and was never in the least disturbed in his passion ; 
and, if he was not successful, at least the little wretch 
could have the pleasure of hinting that he was, and 



126 

looking particularly roguish when the Ravenswing was 
named, and assuring his friends at the club, that " upon 
his vort dere vas no trut in dat rebort" 

At last one day it happened that Mrs. Crump did 
not arrive in time for her daughter's lesson (perhaps it 
rained, and the omnibus was full — a smaller circun> 
stance than that has changed a whole life ere now) — 
Mrs. Crump did not arrive, and Baroski did, and Mor- 
giana, seeing no great harm, sat down to her lesson as 
usual, and in the midst of it down went the music-mas- 
ter on his knees, and made a declaration in the most 
eloquent terms he could muster. 

" Don't be a fool, Baroski !" said the lady (I can't 
help it if her language was not more choice, and if she 
did not rise with cold dignity, exclaiming, "Unhand 
me, sir !")— " don't be a fool !" said Mrs. Walker, " but 
get up and let's finish the lesson." 

" You hard-hearted adorable little greature, vil you 
not listen to me ?" 

" No, I vill not listen to you, Benjamin !" concluded 
the lady ; " get up and take a chair, and don't go on in 
that ridicklous way, don't 1" 

But Baroski, having a speech by heart, determined 
to deliver himself of it in that posture, and begged Mor- 
giana not to turn avay her divine hice, and to listen to 
de voice of his despair, and so forth, and seized the 
lady's hand, and was going to press it to his lips, when 
she said, with more spirit, perhaps, than grace, — 

" Leave go my hand, sir, I'll box your ears if you 
don't!" 

But Baroski wouldn't release her hand, and was 
proceeding to imprint a kiss upon it, and Mrs. Crump, 



THE RAVEN SWING. 127 

who had taken the omnibus at a quarter past twelve 
instead of that at twelve, had just opened the drawing- 
room door and was walking in, when Morgiana, turning 
as red as a peony, and unable to disengage her left hand 
which the musician held, raised up her right hand, and, 
with all her might and main, gave her lover such a 
tremendous slap in the face as caused him abruptly to 
release the hand which he held, and would have laid 
him prostrate on the carpet but for Mrs. Crump, who 
rushed forward and prevented him from falling by 
administering right and left a whole shower of slaps, 
such as he had never endured since the day he was at 
school. 

" What imperence !" said that worthy lady ; " you'll 
lay hands on my daughter will you ? (one, two). You'll 
insult a woman in distress, will you, you little coward ? 
(one, two). Take that, and mind your manners, you 
filthy Jew boy!" 

Baroski bounced up in a fury. "By Chofe,„you 
shall hear of dis!" shouted he; "you shall pay me 
dis !" 

"As many more as you please, little Benjamin," 
cried the widow. " Augustus (to the page), was that 
the captain's knock?" At this Baroski made for his 
hat. " Augustus, show this imperence to the door, and, 
if he tries to come in again, call a policeman, do you 
hear V* 

The music-master vanished very rapidly, and the 
two ladies, instead of being frightened or falling into 
hysterics as their betters would have done, laughed at 
the odious monster's discomfiture, as they called him. 
" Such a man as that set himself up against my How- 



128 MEN ? S WIVES. 



ard !" said Morgiana, with becoming pride ; but it was 
agreed between them that Howard should know no- 
thing of what had occurred for fear of quarrels, or lest he 
should be annoyed. So when he came home not a word 
was said ; and only that his wife met him with more 
warmth than usual, you could not have guessed that 
any thing extraordinary had occurred. It is not my 
fault that my heroine's sensibilities were not more keen, 
that she had not the least occasion for sal-volatile or 
symptom of a fainting fit ; but so it was, and Mr. How- 
ard Walker knew nothing of the quarrel between his 
wife and her instructor, until * * * * 

Until he was arrested next day at the suit of Benja- 
min Baroski for two hundred and twenty guineas, and, 
in default of payment, was conducted by Mr. Tobias 
Larkins to his principal lock-up house in Chancery 
Lane* 



CHAPTER V. 



IN WHICH MR. WALKER FALLS INTO DIFFICULTIES, AND 
MRS. WALKER MAKES MANY FOOLISH ATTEMPTS TO 
RESCUE HIM. 

I hope the beloved reader is not silly enough to ima- 
gine that Mr. Walker on finding himself inspunged for 
debt in Chancery Lane, was so foolish as to think of 
applying to any of his friends (those great person- 
ages who have appeared every now and then in the 
course of this little history, and have served to give 



THE KAVENSWING. 129 

it a fashionable air). No, no ; he knew the world too 
well : and that, though Billingsgate would give him as 
many dozen of claret as he could carry away under his 
belt, as the phrase is (I can't help it, Madam, if the 
phrase is not more genteel), and though Vauxhall 
would lend him his carriage, slap him on the back, and 
dine at his house ; their lordships would have seen Mr. 
Walker depending from a beam in front of the Old 
Bailey rather than have helped him to a hundred 
pounds. 

And why, forsooth, should we expect otherwise in 
the world ? I observe that men who complain of its 
selfishness are quite as selfish as the world is, and no 
more liberal of money than their neighbours ; and I am 
quite sure with regard to Captain Walker that he would 
have treated a friend in want exactly as he when in 
want w : as treated. There w T as only his lady who in the 
least was afflicted by his captivity ; and as for the club, 
that went on, we are bound to say, exactly as it did on 
the day previous to his disappearance. 

By the way, about clubs — could we not, but for fear 
of detaining the fair reader too long, enter into a whole- 
some dissertation here, on the manner of friendship 
established in those institutions, and the noble feeling 
of selfishness which they are likely to encourage in the 
male race? I put out of the question the stale topics 
of complaint, such as leaving home, encouraging gor- 
mandizing, and luxurious habits, <fec. ; but look also at 
the dealings of club-men with one another. Look at 
the rush for the evening paper ! See how Shiverton 
orders a fire in the dog-days, and Sweetenham opens 
the windows in February. See how Cramley takes the 
6* 



130 men's wives. 



whole breast of the turkey on his plate, and how many 
times Jenkins sends away his beggarly half-pint of 
sherry ! Clubbery is organized egotism. Club inti- 
macy is carefully and wonderfully removed from friend- 
ship. You meet Smith for twenty years, exchange the 
day's news with him, laugh with him over the last joke, 
grow as well acquainted as two men may be together — 
and one day, at the end of the list of members of 
the club, you read in a little paragraph by itself, with 
all the honours, 

MEMBER DECEASED. 

Smith, John, Esq. ; 

or he, on the other hand, has the advantage of reading 
your own name selected for a similar typographical dis- 
tinction. There it is, that abominable little exclusive 
list at the end of every club-catalogue — you can't avoid 
it — I belong to eight clubs myself, and know that one 
year Fitz Boodle, George Savage, Esq. (unless it should 
please fate to remove my brother and his six sons, when of 
course it would be Fitz Boodle, Sir George Savage, Bart.), 
will appear in the dismal category. There is that list ; 
down I must go in it : — the day will come and I shan't 
be seen in the bow- window, some one else will be sitting 
in the vacant arm-chair: the rubber will begin as usual, 
and yet somehow Fitz will not be there. " Where's 
Fitz?" says Trumpington, just arrived from the Rhine 
" Don't you know ?" says Punter, turning down his 
thumb to the carpet. " You led the club, I think ?" 
says Ruff to his partner (the other partner !), and the 
waiter snuffs the candles. 

***** 
***** 



THE RAVENSWING. 131 

I hope in the course of the above little pause, every 
single member of a club who reads this has profited by 
the perusal. He may belong, I say, to eight clubs, he 
will die and not be missed by any of the five thousand 
members. Peace be to him; the waiters will forget 
him, and his name will pass away, and another great- 
coat will hang on the hook whence his own used to be 
dependent. 

And this I need not say is the beauty of the club- 
institutions. If it were otherwise, — if forsooth we were 
to be sorry when our friends died, or to draw our purses 
when our friends were in want, we should be insolvent, 
and life would be miserable. Be it ours to button up 
our pockets and our hearts ; and to make merry — it 
is enough to swim down this life-stream for ourselves ; if 
Poverty is clutching hold of our heels, or Friendship 
would catch an arm, kick them both off. Every man's 
for himself, is the word, and plenty to do too. 

My friend Captain Walker had practised the above 
maxims so long and resolutely as to be quite aware 
when he came himself to be in distress, that not a sin- 
gle soul in the whole universe would help him, and he 
took his measures accordingly. 

When carried to Mr. Bendigo's lock-up house, he 
summoned that gentleman in a very haughty way, took 
a blank banker's cheque out of his pocket-book, and 
filling it up for the exact sum of the writ, orders Mr. 
Bendigo forthwith to open the door and let him go 
forth. 

Mr. Bendigo, smiling with exceeding archness, and 
putting a finger covered all over with diamond rings to 
his extremely aquiline nose, inquired of Mr. Walker 



132 men's wives. 



whether he saw anything green about his face ? inti- 
mating by this gay and good-humoured interrogatory 
his suspicion of the unsatisfactory nature of the docu- 
ment handed over to him by Mr. Walker. 

" Hang it, sir !" says Mr. Walker, " go and get the 
cheque cashed, and be quick about it. Send your man 
in a cab, and here's a half-crown to pay for it." The 
confident air somewhat staggers the bailiff, who asked 
him whether he would like any refreshment while his 
man was absent getting the amount of the cheque, and 
treats his prisoner with great civility during the time of 
the messenger's journey. 

But as Captain Walker had but a balance of two 
pounds five and two-pence (this sum was afterwards 
divided among his creditors, the law-expenses being pre- 
viously deducted from it), the bankers of course declined 
to cash the captain's draft for two hundred and odd 
pounds, simply writing the words " no effects" on the 
paper ; on receiving which reply Walker, far from being 
cast down, burst out laughing very gayly, produced a 
real five-pound note, and called upon his host for a bot- 
tle of champagne, which the two worthies drank in per- 
fect friendship and good-humour. The bottle was 
scarcely finished, and the young Israelitish gentleman 
who acts as waiter in Cursitor Street had only time to 
remove the flask and the glasses, when poor Morgiana 
with a flood of tears rushed into her husband's arms, 
and flung herself on his neck, and calling him her 
" dearest, blessed Howard," would have fainted at his 
feet ; but that he, breaking out in a fury of oaths, asked 
her how, after getting him into that scrape through her 
infernal extravagance, she dared to show her face before 



THE HAVENS WING. 133 

him i This address speedily frightened the poor thing 
out of her fainting fit — there is nothing so good for 
female hysterics as a little conjugal sternness, nay, bru- 
tality, as many husbands can aver who are in the habit 
of employing the remedy. 

" My extravagance, Howard ?" said she, in a faint 
way ; and quite put off her purpose of swooning by the 
sudden attack made upon her — " Surely, my love, you 

have nothing to complain of " 

" Of, ma'am ?" roared the excellent Walker, " Is two 
hundred guineas to a music-master nothing to complain 
of? Did you bring me such a fortune as to authorize 
your taking guinea lessons ? Haven't I raised you out 
of your sphere of life and introduced you to the best 
of the land ? Haven't I dressed you like a duchess ? 
Haven't I been for you such a husband as very few 
women in the world ever had, madam — answer me 
that ?" 

"Indeed, Howard, you were always very kind," 
sobbed the lady. 

" Haven't I toiled and slaved for you, — been out all 
day working for you ? Haven't I allowed your vulgar 
old mother to come to your house — to my house, I say ? 
Haven't I done all this P 

She could not deny it, and Walker, who was in a 
rage (and when a man is in a rage, for what on earth 
is a wife made for but that he should vent his rage on 
her ?), continued for some time in this strain, and so 
abused, frightened, and overcame poor Morgiana, that 
she left her husband fully convinced that she was the 
most guilty of beings, and bemoaning his double bad 
fortune that her Howard was ruined and she the cause 
of his misfortunes. 



134 men's wives. 



When she was gone, Mr. Walker resumed his equa- 
nimity (for he was not one of those men whom a few 
months of the King's Bench were likely to terrify), and 
drank several glasses of punch in company with his 
host, with whom in perfect calmness he talked over his 
affairs. That he intended to pay his debt and quit the 
spunging-house next day is a matter of words ; no one 
ever was yet put in a spunging-house that did not 
pledge his veracity he intended to quit it to-morrow. 
Mr. Bendigo said he should be heartily glad to open 
the door to him, and in the meantime sent out diligent- 
ly to see among his friends if there were any more de- 
tainers against the Captain, and to inform the Captain's 
creditors to come forward against him. 

Morgiana went borne in profound grief it may be 
imagined, and could hardly refrain from bursting into 
tears, when the sugar-loaf page asked whether master 
was coming home early, or whether he had taken his 
key ; and lay awake tossing and wretched the whole 
night, and very early in the morning rose up, and 
dressed, and went out. 

Before nine o'clock she was in Cursitor Street ; and 
once more joyfully bounced into her husband's arms, 
who woke up yawning and swearing somewhat, with a 
severe headache, occasioned by the jollification of the 
previous night; for, strange though it may seem, there 
are perhaps no places in Europe where jollity is more 
practised than in prisons for debt : and I declare for 
my own part (I mean, of course, that I went to visit a 
friend) I have dined at Mr. Aminadab's as sumptuously 
as at Long's. 

But it is necessary to account for Morgiana's joyful- 



THE RAVENSWING. 135 

ness, which was strange in her husband's perplexity, 
and after her sorrow of the previous night. Well, then, 
when Mrs. Walker went out in the morning, as she did 
with a very large basket under her arm, " Shall I carry 
the basket, ma'am V said the page, seizing it with much 
alacrity. 

"No, thank you," cried his mistress, with equal eager- 
ness : " it's only " 

" Of course, ma'am," replied the boy, sneering, " I 
knew it was that." 

"Glass," continued Mrs. Walker, turning extremely 
red. " Have the goodness to call a coach, sir, and not 
to speak till you are questioned." 

The young gentleman disappeared upon his errand: 
the coach was called and came. Mrs. Walker slipped 
into it with her basket, and the page w T ent down-stairs 
to his companions in the kitchen, and said, " It's a 
comin' ! master's in quod, and missus has gone out to 
pawn the plate." When the cook went out that day, 
she somehow had by mistake placed in her basket a 
dozen of table-knives and a plated egg-stand. When 
the lady's-maid took a walk in the course of the after- 
noon, she found she had occasion for eight cambric 
pocket-handkerchiefs (marked with her mistress's ci- 
pher), half a dozen pairs of shoes, gloves, long and 
short, some silk stockings, and a gold-headed scent-bot- 
tle. "Both the new cashmires is gone," said she, " and 
there's nothing left in Mrs. Walker's trinket-box but a 
paper of pins and an old coral bracelet." As for the 
page, he rushed incontinently to his master's dressing- 
room and examined every one of the pockets of his 
clothes : made a parcel of some of them, and opened 



130 MENS WIVES. 



all the drawers which Walker had not locked before 
his departure. He only found three-half-pence and a 
bill-stamp, and about forty-five tradesmen's accounts, 
neatly labelled and tied up with red tape. These three 
worthies, a groom, who was a great admirer of Trim- 
mer the lady's-maid, and a policeman, a friend of the 
cook's, sat down to a comfortable dinner at the usual 
hour, and it was agreed among them all that Walker's 
ruin was certain. The cook made the policeman a pre- 
sent of a china punch-bowl which Mrs. Walker had 
given her; and the lady's-maid gave her friend the 
Book of Beauty for last year, and the third volume of 
Byron's poems from the drawing-room table. 

"I'm dash'd if she ain't taken the little French 
clock, too," said the page, and so indeed Mrs. Walker 
had ; it slipped in the basket where it lay enveloped in 
one of her shawls, and then struck madly and unnat- 
urally a great number of times, as Morgiana was lifting 
her store of treasures out of the hackney-coach. The 
coachman wagged his head sadly as he saw her walking 
as quick as she could under her heavy load, and disap- 
pearing round the corner of the street at which Mr. 
Balls's celebrated jewellery establishment is situated. It 
is a grand shop, with magnificent silver cups and sal- 
vers, rare gold-headed canes, flutes, watches, diamond 
brooches, and a few fine specimens of the old masters in 
the window, and under the words — 

Balls, Jcweller, 

yOU read, Money Lent, 

in the very smallest type, on the door. 

The interview with Mr. Balls need not be described, 



THE HAVENS WING. 137 

but it must have been a satisfactory one, for at the end 
of half an hour, Morgiana returned and bounded into 
the coach with sparkling eyes, and told the driver to 
gallop to Cursitor Street, which, smiling, he promised to 
do : and accordingly set off in that direction at the rate 
of four miles an hour. " I thought so," said the philo- 
sophic charioteer. " When a man's in quod, woman 
don't mind her silver spoons ;" and he was so delighted 
with her action, that he forgot to grumble when she 
came to settle accounts with him, even though she gave 
him only double his fere. 

" Take me to him," said she to the young Hebrew 
who opened the door. 

" To whom !" says the sarcastic youth ; " there's 
twenty hims here. You're precious early." 

a To Captain Walker, young man," replied Morgiana 
haughtily, whereupon the youth opening the second door, 
and seeing Mr. Bendigo in a flow r ered dressing-gown de- 
scending the stairs, exclaimed, "Papa, here's a lady for 
the Captain." " I'm come to free him," said she, trem- 
bling and holding out a bundle of bank-notes. " Here's 
the amount of your claim, sir — two hundred and 
twenty pounds, as you told me last night ;" and the Jew 
took the notes, and grinned as he looked at her, and 
grinned double as he looked at his son, and begged 
Mrs. Walker to step into his study and take a receipt. 
When the door of that apartment closed upon the lady 
and his father, Mr. Bendigo the younger fell back in an 
agony of laughter, which it is impossible to describe in 
words, and presently ran out into a court where some 
of the luckless inmates of the house were already taking 
the air, and communicated something to them which 



138 men's wives. 



made those individuals also laugh as uproariously as he 
had previously done. 

Well, after joyfully taking the receipt from Mr. Ben- 
digo (how her cheeks flushed and her heart fluttered as 
she dried it on the blotting-book !), and after turning 
very pale again on hearing that the Captain had had a 
very bad night ; " And well he might, poor dear I" said 
she (at which Mr. Bendigo, having no person to grin at, 
grinned at a marble bust of Mr. Pitt, which ornamented 
his sideboard). Morgiana, I say, these preliminaries 
being concluded, was conducted to her husband's apart- 
ment, and once more flinging her arms round her dearest 
Howard's neck, told him with one of the sweetest smiles 
in the world to make haste and get up and come home, 
for breakfast was waiting and the carriage at the door. 

" What do you mean, love ?" said the Captain, 
starting up and looking exceedingly surprised. 

" I mean that my dearest is free ; that the odious 
little creature is paid — at least the horrid bailiff is.'' 

" Have you been to Baroski ?" said Walker, turn- 
ing very red. 

" Howard !" said his wife, quite indignant. 

" Did — did your mother give you the money ?" 
asked the Captain. 

" No ; I had it by me," replies Mrs. Walker, with it 
very knowing look. 

Walker was more surprised than ever. "Have you 
any more money by you ?" said he. 

Mrs. Walker showed him her purse with two guin- 
eas ; That is all, love," she said. " And I wish," con- 
tinued she, "you would give me a draft to pay a whole 
list of little bills that have somehow all come in within 
the last few days." 



THE RAVENSWING. 139 

" Well, well, you shall have the cheque," continued 
Mr. Walker, and began forthwith to make his toilet, 
which completed, he rung for Mr. Bendigo, and his bill, 
and intimated his wish to go home directly. 

The honoured bailiff brought the bill, but with 
regard to his being free, said it was impossible. 

" How impossible V said Mrs. Walker, turning very 
red and then very pale. " Did I not pay just now ?" 

" So you did, and you've got the reshipt ; but there's 
another detainer against the Captain for a hundred and 
fifty. Eglantine and Mossrose, of Bond Street; — per- 
fumery for five years, you know." 

" You don't mean to say you were such a fool as to 
pay without asking if there were any more detainers ?" 
roared Walker to his wife. 

" Yes, she was though," chuckled Mr. Bendigo ; 
" but she'll know better the next time : and, besides, 
Captain, what's a hundred and fifty pounds to you ?" 

Though Walker desired nothing so much in the 
world at that moment as the liberty to knock down his 
wife, his sense of prudence overcame his desire for jus- 
tice, if that feeling may be called prudence on his part 
which consisted in a strong wish to cheat the bailiff into 
the idea that he (Walker) was an exceedingly respecta- 
ble and wealthy man. Many worthy persons indulge 
in this fond notion, that they are imposing upon the 
world, strive to fancy, for instance, that their bankers 
consider them men of property because they keep a 
tolerable balance, pay little tradesmen's bills with osten- 
tatious punctuality, and so forth, — but the world, let us 
be pretty sure, is as wise as need be, and guesses our 
real condition with a marvellous instinct, or learns it 



140 MEN'S WIVES. 



with curious skill. The London tradesman is one of 
the keenest judges of human nature extant ; and if a 
tradesman, how much more a bailiff? though, in reply 
to the ironic question, "What's a hundred and fifty 
pounds to you ?" "Walker, collecting himself, answers, 
" It is an infamous imposition, and I owe the money no 
more than you do, but, nevertheless, I shall instruct my 
lawyers to pay it in the course of the morning, under 
protest of course." 

" Oh, of course," said Mr. Bendigo, bowing and 
quitting the room, and leaving Mrs. Walker to the 
pleasure of a tete-a-tete with her husband. 

And now being alone with the partner of his bosom, 
the worthy gentleman began an address to her which 
cannot be put down on paper here ; because the world 
is exceedingly squeamish, and does not care to hear the 
whole truth about rascals, and because the fact is that 
almost every other word of the Captain's speech was a 
curse, such as would shock the beloved reader were it 
put in print. 

" it, madam," began he, " I always thought 

you a fool, but not such a fool as this, you ; 

my eyes, you're enough to drive me mad with 

your " * * * * * * 

Now you see it is quite impossible to report such a 
conversation word for word ; and I am pretty sure, a a 
reste, that the editor of the Magazine would draw his 
pen through every line of it. 

Fancy, then, in lieu of the conversation, a scoundrel 
disappointed and in a fury, wreaking his brutal revenge 
upon an amiable woman, who sits trembling and pale, 
and wondering at this sudden exhibition of wrath. 



THE RAVENSWING. 141 

Fancy how he clenches his fists and stands over her, 
and stamps and screams out curses with a livid face, 
growing wilder and wilder in his rage ; wrenching her 
hand when she wants to turn away, and only stopping 
at last when she has fallen off the chair in a fainting fit, 
with a heart-breaking sob that made the Jew-boy who 
was listening at the key-hole turn quite pale and walk 
away. Well, it is best, perhaps, that such a conversa- 
tion should not be told at length : — at the end of it, 
when Mr. Walker had his wife lifeless on the floor, he 
seizes a water-jug and poured it over her, which opera- 
tion pretty soon brought her to herself, and shaking her 
black ringlets, she looked up once more again timidly 
into his face, and took his hand, and began to cry. 

He spoke now in a somewhat softer voice : and let 
her keep paddling on with his hand as before; he 
couldn't speak very fiercely to the poor girl in her atti- 
tude of defeat, and tenderness, and supplication. " Mor- 
giana," said he, a your extravagance and carelessness 
have brought me to ruin, I'm afraid. If you'd chosen 
to have gone to Baroski, a word from you would have 
made him withdraw the writ ; and my property wouldn't 
have been sacrificed has it has now been for nothing. 
It mayn't be yet too late, however, to retrieve ourselves. 
This bill of Eglantine's is a regular conspiracy, I am 
sure, between Mossrose and Bendigo here : you must 
go to Eglantine — he's an old — an old flame of yours, 
you know." 

She dropped his hand ; " I can't go to Eglantine 
after what has passed between us," she said ; but Wal- 
ker's face instantly began to wear a certain look, and 
she said with a shudder, " Well, well, dear, I will go." 



142 men's wives. 



" You will go to Eglantine, and ask liim to take a 
bill for the amount of this shameful demand — at any 
date, never mind what. Mind, however, to see him 
alone, and I'm sure if you choose you can settle the 
business. Make haste ; set off directly, and come back, 
as there may be more detainers in." 

Trembling, and in a great flutter, Morgiana put on 
her bonnet and gloves and went towards the door. 
" It's a fine morning," said Mr. Walker, looking out ; 
" a walk will do you good ; and — Morgiana — didn't 
you say you had a couple of guineas in your pocket ?" 

" Here it is," said she, smiling all at once, and hold- 
ing up her face to be kissed. She paid the two guineas 
for the kiss. Was it not a mean act ? " Is it possible 
that people can love where they do not respect ?" says 
Miss Prim. a / never would." Nobody asked you, 
Miss Prim : but recollect Morgiana was not born with 
your advantages of education and breeding ; and was, 
in fact, a poor vulgar creature, who loved Mr. Walker, 
not because her mamma told her, nor because he was an 
exceedingly eligible and well-brought up young man ; 
but because she could not help it, and knew no better. 
Nor is Mrs. Walker set up as a model of virtue : ah no ! 
when I want a model of virtue I will call in Baker 
Street, and ask for a sitting of my dear (if I may be 
permitted to say so) Miss Prim. 

We have Mr. Howard Walker safely housed in Mr. 
Bendigo's establishment in Cursitor Street, Chancery 
Lane ; and it looks like mockery and want of feeling 
towards the excellent hero of this story, or, as should 
rather be said towards the husband of the heroine, to 
say what he might have been but for the unlucky little 
circumstance of Baroski's passion for Morgiana. 



THE RAVENS WING. 143 

If Baroski had not fallen in love with Morgiana, he 
would not have given her two hundred guineas' worth 
of lessons, he would not have so far presumed as to 
seize her hand and attempt to kiss it ; if he had not 
attempted to kiss her, she would not have boxed his 
ears ; he would not have taken out the writ against 
Walker ; Walker would have been free, very possibly 
rich, and therefore certainly respected ; he always says 
to this day that a month's more liberty would have set 
him beyond the reach of misfortune. 

The assertion is very likely a correct one : for Wal- 
ker had a flashy, enterprising genius, which ends in 
wealth sometimes, in the King's Bench not seldom, oc- 
casionally, alas, in Van Dieman's land ! He might 
have been rich, could he have kept his credit, and had 
not his personal expenses and extravagances pulled him 
down. He had gallantly availed himself of his wife's 
fortune ; nor could any man in London, as he proudly 
said, have made five hundred pounds go so far. He 
had, as we have seen, furnished a house, sideboard, and 
cellar with it ; he had a carriage, and horses in his 
stable, and with the remainder he had purchased 
shares in four companies — of three of which he was 
founder and director, had conducted innumerable bar- 
gains in the foreign stocks, had lived and entertained 
sumptuously, and made himself a very considerable in- 
come. He had set up The Capitol Loan and Life 
Assurance Company, had discovered the Chimborazo 
gold mines, and the Society for Recovering and Drain- 
ing the Pontine Marshes ; capital ten millions ; patron, 
His Holiness the Pope. It certainly was stated in 
an evening paper that his Holiness had made him a 



144 



MEN'S WIVES. 



Knight of the Spur, and had offered to him the rank of 
Count ; and he was raising a loan for His Highness the 
Cacique of Panama, who has sent him (by way of div- 
idend) the grand cordon of his Highness's order of the 
Castle and Falcon, which might be seen any day at his 
office in Bond Street, with the parchments signed and 
sealed by the Grand Marshal and Falcon King at Arms 
of his Highness. In a week more, as Walker is ready 
still to take his affidavit, he would have raised a hun- 
dred thousand pounds, on his Highness's twenty per 
cent loan ; he would have had fifteen thousand pounds * 
commission for himself; his companies would have 
risen to par, he would have realized his shares ; he 
would have gone into parliament, he would have been 
made a baronet, who knows ? a peer, probably ! " And 
I appeal to you, sir," says Walker to his friends, " could 
any man have shown better proof of his affection for 
his wife, than by laying out her little miserable money 
as I did ? They call me heartless, sir, because I didn't 
succeed ; sir, my life has been a series of sacrifices for 
that woman, such as no man ever performed before." 

A proof of Walker's dexterity and capability for 
business may be seen in the fact that he had actually 
appeased and reconciled one of his bitterest enemies — 
our honest friend Eglantine. After Walker's marriage, 
Eglantine, who had now no mercantile dealings with 
his former agent because so enraged with him, that, as 
the only means of revenge in his power, he sent him in 
his bill for goods supplied to the amount of one hun- 
dred and fifty guineas, and sued him for the amount. 
But Walker stepped boldly over to his enemy, and in 
the course of half an hour thev were friends. 



THE RAVENSWING. 145 

Eglantine promises to forego his claim ; and ac- 
cepted in lieu of it three £100 shares of the ex-Panama 
stock, bearing 25 per cent., payable half-yearly at the 
house of Hocus Brothers, St. Swithin's Lane ; three 
£100 shares, the second class of the order of the Castle 
and Falcon, with the riband and badge. " In four 
years, Eglantine, my boy, I hope to get you the Grand 
Cordon of the order," said Walker ; " I hope to see you 
a Knight Grand Cross : with a grant of a hundred 
thousand acres reclaimed from the Isthmus." 

To do my poor Eglantine justice, he did not care 
for the hundred thousand acres — it was the star that 
delighted him ; — ah ! how his fat chest heaved with 
delight as he sewed on the cross and riband to his 
dress coat ; and lighted up four wax candles and looked 
at himself in the glass. He was known to wear a 
great-coat after that — it was that he might wear the 
cross under it. That year he went on a trip to Bou- 
logne. He was dreadfully ill during the voyage, but 
as the vessel entered the port he was seen to emerge 
from the cabin, his coat open, the star blazing on his 
chest, the soldiers saluted him as he walked the streets, 
he was called Monsieur le Chevalier, and when he went 
home he entered into negotiations with Walker, to 
purchase a commission in his Highness's service. Walk- 
er said he would get the nominal rank of Captain, the 
fees at the Panama War Office were five-and-twenty 
pounds, which sum honest Eglantine produced, and had 
his commission, and a pack of visiting cards printed as 
Captain Archibald Eglantine, K. C. F. Many a time 
he looked at them as they lay in his desk, and he kept 
7 



146 men's wives. 



the cross in his dressing-table, and wore it as he shaved 
every morning. 

His Highness the Cacique, it is well known, came 
to England, and had lodgings in Eegent Street, where 
he held a levee, at which Eglantine appears in the 
Panama uniform, and was most graciously received by 
his Sovereign. His Highness proposed to make Cap- 
tain Eglantine his aide-de-camp with the rank of 
Colonel, but the Captain's exchequer was rather low at 
that moment, and the fees at the "War-Office" were 
peremptory. Meanwhile his Highness left Eegent 
Street, was said by some to have returned to Panama, 
by others to be in his native city of Cork, by others to 
be leading a life of retirement in the New Cut, Lam- 
beth ; at any rate was not visible for some time, so that 
Captain Eglantine's advancement did not take place. 
Eglantine was somehow ashamed to mention his mili- 
tary and chivalric rank to Mr. Mossrose, when that 
gentleman came into partnership with him ; and left 
these facts secret until they were detected by a very 
painful circumstance. 

On the very day that Walker was arrested at the 
suit of Benjamin Baroski, there appeared in the news- 
papers an account of the imprisonment of his Highness 
the Prince of Panama, for a bill owing to a licensed vic- 
tualler in KatclirT Highway. The m agistrate to whom the 
victualler subsequently came to complain, passed many 
pleasantries on the occasion. He asked whether his 
Highness did not drink like a swan with two necks ; 
whether he had brought any Belles savages with him 
from Panama, and so forth ; and the whole court, said 
the report, " was convulsed with laughter, when Boni- 



l'HE RAVEXSWING. 147 



face produced a green and yellow riband with a large 
star of the order of the Castle and Falcon, with which 
his Highness proposed to gratify him, in lieu of paying 
his little bill." 

It was as he was reading the above document with 
a bleeding heart that Mr. Mossrose came in from his 
daily walk to the City. " Veil, Eglantine," says he, 
" have you heard the newsh !" 

" About his Highness ?" 

" About your friend Valker ; he's arrested for two 
hundred poundsh !" 

Eglantine at this could contain no more ; but told 
his story of how he had been induced to accept 3001. of 
Panama stock for his account against Walker, and 
cursed his stars for his folly. 

" Veil, you've only to bring in another bill," said the 
younger perfumer ; " swear he owes you a hundred and 
fifty pounds, and we'll have a writ out against him 
this afternoon." 

And so a second writ was taken out against Cap- 
tain Walker. 

" You'll have his wife here very likely in a day or 
two," said Mr. Mossrose to his partner ; " them chaps 
always sends their wives, and I hope you know how to 
deal with her." 

" I don't value her a fig's hend," said Eglantine. 
" I'll treat her like the dust of the hearth. After that 
woman's conduct to me, I should like to see her have 
the haudacity to come here ; and if she does, you'll see 
how I'll serve her." 

The worthy perfumer was, in fact, resolved to be 
exceedingly hard-hearted, in his behaviour towards his 



148 men's wives. 



old love, and acted over at night in bed the scene which 
was to occur when the meeting should take place. Oh, 
thought he, but it will be a grand thing to see the 
proud Morgiana on her knees to me ; and me a point- 
ing to the door ; and saying, " Madam, you've steeled 
this 'eart against you, you have ; — bury the recollection 
of old times, of those old times when I thought my 'eart 
would have broke, but it didn't — no, 'earts are made oi 
sterner stuff. I didn't die as I thought I should ; I 
stood it, and live to see the woman I despised at my 
feet — ha, ha, at my feet !" 

In the midst of these thoughts Mr. Eglantine fell 
asleep ; but it was evident that the idea of seeing Mor- 
giana once more, agitated him considerably, else why 
should he have been at the pains of preparing so much 
heroism ? His sleep was exceedingly fitful and troubled ; 
he saw Morgiana in a hundred shapes ; he dreamed that 
he was dressing her hair ; that he was riding with her 
to Richmond ; that the horse turned into a dragon, and 
Morgiana into Woolsey, who took him by the throat 
and choked him, while the dragon played the key-bugle. 
And in the morning when Mossrose was gone to his 
business in the City, and he sat reading the Morning 
Post in his study, ah ! what a thump his heart gave as 
the lady of his dreams actually stood before him ! 

Many a lady who purchased brushes at Eglantine's 
shop, would have given ten guineas for such a colour 
as his when he saw her. His heart beat violently, he 
was almost choking in his stays — he had been prepared 
for the visit, but his courage failed him now it had 
come. They were both silent for some minutes. 

" You know what T am come for," at last said Mor- 



THE RAVENSWING. 149 

giana from under her veil, but slie put it aside as she 
spoke. 

"I — that is — yes — it's a painful affair, mem," he 
said, giving one look at her pale face, and then turning 
away in a flurry. "I beg to refer you to Blunt, Hone, 
and Sharpes, my lawyers, mem," he added, collecting 
himself. 

" I didn't expect this from you, Mr. Eglantine," said 
the lady, and began to sob. 

"And after what's 'appened, I didn't expect a visit 
from you, mem. I thought Mrs. Capting Walker was 
too great a dame to visit poor Harchibald Eglantine 
(though some of the first men in the country do visit 
him). Is there anything in w T hich I can oblige you, 
mem ?" 

" O heavens !" cried the poor woman ; " have I no 
friend left ? I never thought that you, too, wtfuld have 
deserted me, Mr. Archibald." 

The "Archibald," pronounced in the old w r ay, 
had evidently an effect on the perfumer ; he winced 
and looked at her very eagerly for a moment. " What 
can I do for you, mem ?" at last said he. 

" What is this bill against Mr. Walker, for which 
he is now in prison ?" 

" Perfumery supplied for five years ; that man used 
more 'air-brushes than any duke in the land, and as 
for Eau de Cologne he must have bathed himself in it. 
He hordered me about like a lord. He never paid me 
one shilling, — he stabbed me in my most vital part — 
but, ah! ah! never mind that: and I said I would 
be revenged and I am." 

The perfumer was quite in a rage again by this 



150 men's wives. 



time, and wiped his fat face with his pocket-handker- 
chief, and glared upon Mrs. Walker with a most deter- 
mined air. 

" Revenged on whom ? Archibald — Mr. Eglantine, 
revenged on me — on a poor woman whom you made 
miserable. You would not have done so once." 

" Ha ! and a precious way you treated me oner:' 
said Eglantine ; " don't talk to me, mem, of mice. 
Bury the recollection of once for hever ! I thought my 
'eart would have broke once, but no; 'earts are made 
of sterner stuff. I didn't die as I thought I should ; I 
stood it- — and I live to see the woman who despised me 
at my feet." 

" Oh, Archibald !" was all the lady could say, and 
she fell to sobbing again ; it was perhaps her best 
argument with the perfumer. 

" Oh, Harchibald, indeed !" continued he, beginning 
to swell ; dont call me Harchibald, Morgiana. Think 
what a position you might have held, if you'd chose : 
when, when — you might have called me Harchibald. 
Now it's no use," added he, with harrowing pathos ; 
"but, though I've been wronged, I can't bear to see 
women in tears — tell me what I can do ?" 

" Dear, good Mr. Eglantine, send to your lawyers 
and stop this horrid prosecution — take Mr. Walker's 
acknowledgment for the debts. If he is free, he is 
sure to have a very large sum of money in a few days, 
and will pay you all. Do not ruin him — do not ruin 
me by persisting now. Be the old kind Eglantine you 
were." 

Eglantine took a hand, which Morgiana did not 
refuse; bethought about old times. He had known 



T11K KAVBNSWING, 151 

her since childhood almost ; as a girl he dandled her on 
his knee at the Kidneys ; as a woman he had adored 
her, — his heart was melted. 

" He did pay me in a sort of way," reasoned the 
perfumer with himself—" these bonds, though they are 
not worth much, I took 'em for better or for worse, and 
I can't bear to see her crying, and to trample on a 
woman in distress. Morgiana," he added, in a loud 
cheerful voice, " cheer up ; I'll give you a release for 
your husband : I will be the old kind Eglantine I was." 

" Be the old kind jackass you vash !" here roared a 
voice that made Mr. Eglantine start " Vy, vat an old fat 
fool you are, Eglantine, to give up our just debts because 
a voman comes snivelling and crying to you — and such 
a voman, too !" exclaimed Mr. Mossrose, for his was the 
voice. 

" Such a woman, sir V cried the senior partner. 

" Yes ; such a woman — vy didn't she jilt you her- 
self? — hasn't she been trying the same game with Ba- 
roski ; and are you so green as to give up a hundred 
and fifty pounds because she takes a fancy to come 
vimpering here ? I won't, I can tell you. The money's 
as much mine as it is yours, and I'll have it, or keep 
Walker's body, that's what I will." 

At the presence of his partner, the timid good 
genius of Eglantine which had prompted him to mercy 
and kindness, at once outspread its frightened wings 
and flew away. 

" You see how it is, Mrs. W.," said he, looking 
down; "it's an affair of business — in all these here 
affairs of business Mr. Mossrose is the managing man ; 
ain't you, Mr. Mossrose S" 



152 men's wives. 



"A pretty business it would be if I wasn't" replied 
Mossrose, doggedly. " Come, ma'ra," says he, " I'll tell 
you vat I do : I take fifty per slient ; not a farthing 
less — give me that, and out your husband goes." 

" Oh, sir, Howard will pay you in a week." 

" Veil, den let him stop at my uncle Bendigo's for a 
week, and come out den — he's very comfortable there," 
said Shylock with a grin. " Hadn't you better go to 
the shop, Mr. Eglantine," continued he, " and look after 
your business : Mrs. Walker can't want you to listen to 
her all day." 

Eglantine was glad of the excuse, and slunk out of 
the studio, not into the shop but into his parlour ; where 
he drank off a great glass of Maraschino ; and sat blush- 
ing and exceedingly agitated, until Mossrose came to 
tell him that Mrs. W. was gone, and wouldn't trouble 
him any more. But although he drank several more 
glasses of Maraschino, and went to the play that night, 
and to the cider-cellars afterwards, neither the liquor, 
nor the play, nor the delightful comic songs at the cel- 
lars, could drive Mrs. Walker out of his head, and the 
memory of old times, and the image of her pale weeping 
face. 

Morgiana tottered out of the shop, scarcely heeding 
the voice of Mr. Mossrose, who said, " I'll take forty per 
shent" (and went back to his duty cursing himself for 
a soft-hearted fool for giving up so much of his rights to 
a puling woman). Morgiana. I say, tottered out of the 
shop, and went up Conduit Street, weeping, weeping 
with all her eyes. She was quite faint, for she had 
taken nothing that morning but the glass of water 
which the pastry-cook in the Strand had given her, and 



THE RAVENSWING. 153 

was forced to take hold of the railings of a house for 
support, just as a little gentleman with a yellow hand- 
kerchief under his arm was issuing from the door. 

" Good heavens, Mrs. Walker I" said the gentleman, 
it was no other than Mr. Woolsey, who was going forth 
to try a body coat for a customer, " are you ill ? — 
what's the matter ? for God's sake come in I" and he 
took her arm under his, and led her into his back- 
parlour, and seated her, and had some wine-and-water 
before her in one minute, before she had said one single 
word regarding herself. 

As soon as she was somewhat recovered, and with 
the interruption of a thousand sobs, the poor thing told 
as well as she could her little story. Mr. Eglantine had 
arrested Mr. Walker ; she had been trying to gain time 
for him, Eglantine had refused. 

" The hard-hearted, cowardly brute to refuse her 
any thing !" said loyal Mr. Woolsey. " My dear," says 
he, " I've no reason to love your husband, and know too 
much about him to respect him ; but I love and respect 
you, and will spend my last shilling to serve you." At 
which Morgiana could only take his hand and cry a 
great deal more than ever. She said Mr. Walker would 
have a great deal of money in a week, that he was the 
best of husbands, and she was sure Mr. Woolsey would 
think better of him when he knew him ; that Mr. Eglan- 
tine's bill was one hundred and fifty pounds, but that 
Mr. Mossrose would take forty per cent, if Mr. Woolsey 
could say how much that was. 

" I'll pay a thousand pound to do you good," said 
Mr. Woolsey, bouncing up ; " stay here for ten minutes, 
my dear, until my return, and all shall be right, as you 
7* 



154 men's wives. 



will see." He was back in ten minutes, and had called 
a cab from the stand opposite (all the coachmen there 
had seen and commented on Mrs. Walker's woe-begone 
looks), and they were off for Cursitor Street in a mo- 
ment. " They'll settle the whole debt for twenty pounds," 
said he, and showed an order to that effect from Mr. 
Mossrose to Mr. Bendigo's, empowering the latter to 
release Walker on receiving Mr. Woolsey's acknowledg- 
ment for the above sum. 

^» *?» 3Rf vf tr? 

" There's no use paying it," said Mr. Walker, dog- 
gedly, " it would only be robbing you, Mr. Woolsey — 
seven more detainers have come in while my wife has 
been away. I must go through the court now ; but," 
he added in a whisper to the tailor, " my good sir, my 
debts of honour are sacred, and if you will have the 
goodness to lend me the twenty pounds, I pledge you 
my word as a gentleman to return it when I come out 
of quod." 

It is probable that Mr. Woolsey declined this ; for 
as soon as he was gone, Walker, in a tremendous fury, 
began cursing his wife for dawdling three hours on the 
road. " Why the deuce, ma'am, didn't you take a 
cab?" roared he, when he heard she had walked to 
Bond Street. " Those writs have only been in half an 
hour, and I might have been off but for you." 

" O, Howard," said she, " didn't you take — didn't I 
give you my — my last shilling?" and fell back and 
wept again more bitterly than ever. 

" Well, love," said her amiable husband, turning 
rather red ; " never mind, it wasn't your fault. It is 
but going through the court. It is no great odds. I 



forgive you." 



THE RAVENSWING. 155 



CHAPTER VI. 

IN WHICH MR. WALKER STILL REMAINS IN DIFFICULTIES, 
BUT SHOWS GREAT RESIGNATION UNDER HIS MIS- 
FORTUNES. 

The exemplary Walker now seeing that escape from 
his enemies was hopeless, and that it was his duty as a 
man to turn on them and face them, now determined 
to quit the splendid though narrow lodgings which Mr. 
Bendigo had provided for him, and undergo the mar- 
tyrdom of the Fleet. Accordingly, in company with 
that gentleman, he came over to her Majesty's prison, 
and gave himself into the custody of the officers there ; 
and did not apply for the accommodation of the rules 
(by which in those days the captivity of some debtors 
was considerably heightened), because he knew perfectly 
well that there was no person in the wide world who 
would give a security for the heavy sum for which 
Walker was answerable. What these sums were is no 
matter, and on this head we do not think it at all 
necessary to satisfy the curiosity of the reader. He 
may have owed hundreds — thousands, his creditors 
only can tell ; he paid the dividend which has been 
formerly mentioned, and showed thereby his desire to 
satisfy all claims upon him to the uttermost farthing. 

As for the little house in Connaught Square, when, 
alter quilling her husband, Morgiana drove back thither, 



156 men's wives. 



the door was opened by the page, who instantly thanked 
her to pay his wages ; and in the drawing-room, on a 
yellow satin sofa, sat a seedy man (with a pot of porter 
beside him placed on an album for fear of staining the 
rosewood table), and the seedy man signified that he 
had taken possession of the furniture in execution for a 
judgment debt. Another seedy man was in the dining- 
room, reading a newspaper and drinking gin ; he in- 
formed Mrs. Walker that he was the representative of 
another judgment debt and of another execution: — 
" There's another on 'em in the kitchen," said the page, 
" taking an inwentory of the furniture ; and he swears 
he'll have you took up for swindling, for pawning the 
plate." 

" Sir," said Mr. Woolsey, for that worthy man had 
conducted Morgiana home, " sir," said he, shaking his 
stick at the young page, " if you give any more of your 
impudence I'll beat every button off your jacket ;" and 
as there were some four hundred of these ornaments, the 
page was silent. It was a great mercy for Morgiana 
that the honest and faithful tailor had accompanied her. 
The good fellow had waited very patiently for her for 
an hour in the parlour or coffee-room of the lock-up 
house, knowing full well that she would want a pro- 
tector on her way homewards ; and his kindness will be 
more appreciated when it is stated that during the time 
of his, delay in the coffee-room he had been subject to 
the entreaties, nay, to the insults of Cornet Fipkin of 
the Blues, who was in prison at the suit of Lindsey, 
Woolsey, and Co., and who happened to be taking his 
breakfast in the apartment when his obdurate creditor 
entered it. The cornet (a hero of eighteen, who stood 



THE RAVENSWING. 157 

at least five feet three in bis boots, and owed fifteen 
thousand pounds) was so enraged at the obduracy of 
his creditor that he said he would have thrown him out 
of the window but for the bars which guarded it ; and 
entertained serious thoughts of knocking the tailor's 
head off, but that the latter, putting his right leg for- 
ward and his fists in a proper attitude, told the young 
officer to " come on ;" on which the cornet cursed the 
tailor for a "snob," and went back to his breakfast. 
The cornet subsequently took benefit of the act, and is 

now Sir Frederick Fipkin Fipkin of the Fip, shire, 

the respected master of fox-hounds in that county. It 
is only to simpletons and cowards that the English laws 
of debtor and creditor are frightful — advance boldly 
towards them, and they vanish like ghosts before bold 
knights of old; but let a man be afraid of them, and 
the poor trembling wretch is their slave for ever. We 
all know men who have undergone the process of what 
is called "whitewashing" a half score of times — ask 
them are they afraid of it ? Psha ! it is nothing. And 
wise and merciful our law is in this respect. It is 
the terror of what are called honest men, certainly; 
but on the other hand, it is the great comfort and con- 
solation of other persons — a philanthropic premium for 
those who must have their ease and cannot live without 
their horse to ride, nor dine without their champagne ; 
and who would pine away hopelessly, did not the 
admirable system of credit supply them gratis with all 
the little wants and luxuries necessary to persons of 
their peculiar and delicate organization. 

Take an instance on the other side — a friend of 
mine dined the other day at the Coke-upon-Lyttelton 



158 men's wives. 



Club, and put a case to several of his legal friends there. 
He had been abroad with his family for two years, 
leaving his house in charge of a servant on board-wages. 
A poulterer, on his return, brings him in a bill for fine 
Dorking fowls, turkeys and pigeons, and such delicacies 
supplied to his family during their residence five hun- 
dred miles off abroad. " A part of this bill," says he, 
" may be correct, for it is dated, you see, three years 
back ; and Mrs. Jones, who is at Munich, can't tell 
whether she paid it : — but is it not monstrous, however, 
that I should have to pay the other part? Ah, to pay 
for barn-door fowls that never passed my gates, and 
turkey-polts of which I have never seen a feather ?" But 
the lawyers said with one voice, " Pay it. It will cost 
you more to win the cause than to pay the bill :" " And 
for my part," says one great legal authority (whose 
name for fear of consequences I will not mention), " if 
any tradesman choose to send me in a bill I will pay it 
rather than go to law." How much will any honest 
tradesman give to know my learned friend's name ? 
It would be a fortune to a clever fellow, and I would 
recommend such to take the law-list and issue little bills 
and little writs all round — the learned gentlemen know 
too well their business not to pay ; and no more like to 
employ their own wares, than physicians like to take 
pills, or pastry-cooks to swallow tarts. Oh, that a 
society of philanthropists would but take this hint and 
act upon it ; taking upon them to swear debts against 
the bar, the attorneys, and the members of both houses ! 
and so give an an illustration of the noble system of 
credit — the kind patron of roguery, the fruitful parent of 
litigation, the bully who frightens solvent men into the 



THE RAVEXSWING. 159 

payment of unjust debts, the tempter who encourages 
extravagance and knavery to contract them ; of credit, 
which offers a premium to the tradesman to cheat the 
customers, to the customer to cheat the tradesman, and 
to the lawyer to rob all. As it was heaven that com- 
manded industry, so be sure it was the devil who 
invented credit. 

This little digression, my dear friend, has been oc- 
casioned not so much by the sight of the execution 
people in charge of Mr. Walker's house (whence of 
course, Mrs. Walker was driven to take refuge with her 
mamma near Sadler's Wells), as by thinking over the 
life of the brave Captain himself, now comfortably 
lodged in the Fleet. He had some ready money, and 
w T ith it managed to make his existence exceedingly 
comfortable. He lived with the best society of the place, 
consisting of several distinguished young noblemen and 
gentlemen. He spent the morning playing at fives and 
smoking cigars ; the evening smoking cigars and dining 
comfortably. Cards came after dinner ; and, as the 
captain was an experienced player, and near a score of 
years older than most of his friends, he was gene- 
rally pretty successful ; and, indeed if he had received 
all the money that was owed to him, he might have 
come out of prison and paid his creditors twenty shil- 
lings in the pound — that is if he had been minded to do 
so. But there is no use in examining into that point 
too closely, for the fact is, young Fipkin only paid him 
forty pounds out of seven hundred, for which he gave 
him I. 0. IPs. Algernon Ducease not only did not pay 
him three hundred and twenty which he lost at blind 
hooky, but actually borrowed seven and sixpence in 



160 men's wives. 



money from Walker, which have never been repaid to 
this day ; and Lord Doublequits actually lost nineteen 
thousand pounds to him at heads and tails, which he 
never paid, pleading drunkenness and his minority. 
The reader may recolllect a paragraph which went the 
round of the papers entitled, " Affair of Honour in the 
Fleet Prison, — Yesterday morning (behind the pump 
in the second court) Lord D-bl-qu-ts and Captain H-w- 
rd W-lk-r (a near relative, we understand, of His Grace 
the Duke of N-rf-lk) had a hostile meeting and ex- 
changed two shots. These two young sprigs of nobility 
were attended to the ground by Major Flush, who, by 
the way, is flush no longer, and Captain Pam, late of 

the Dragoons. Play is said to have been the cause 

of the quarrel, and the gallant captain is reported to 
have handled the noble lord's nose rather roughly at 
one stage of the transactions." When Morgiana at Sad- 
ler's Wells heard these news, she was ready to faint with 
terror ; and rushed to the Fleet Pri son, and embraced 
her lord and master with her usual expansion and fits of 
tears, very much to that gentleman's annoyance, who 
happened to be in company with Pam and Flush at the 
time, and did not care that his handsome wife should 
be seen too much in the dubious precincts of the Fleet. 
He had at least so much shame about him, and had 
always rejected her entreaties to be allowed to inhabit 
the prison with him. 

" It is enough," would he say, casting his eyes 
heavenward, and with a most lugubrious countenance, 
— " it is enough, Morgiana, that / should suffer, even 
though your thoughtlessness has been the cause of my 
ruin. But enough of that ! I will not rebuke you for 



THE RAVEN SWING. 161 

faults for which I know you are now repentant ; and I 
never could bear to see you in the midst of the miseries 
of this horrible place. Remain at home with your 
mother, and let me drag on the weary days here alone. 
If you can get me any more of that pale sherry, my 
love, do. I require something to cheer me in solitude, 
and have found my chest very much relieved by that 
wine. Put more pepper and eggs, my dear, into the 
next veal-pie you make me. I can't eat the horrible 
messes in the coffee-room here." 

It was Walker's wish, I can't tell why, except that 
it is the wish of a great number of other persons in this 
strange world, to m«ike his wife believe that he was 
wretched in mind and ill in health ; and all assertions 
to this effect the simple creature received with number- 
less tears of credulity, and would go home to Mrs. 
Crump, and say how her darling Howard was pining 
away, how he was ruined for he?% and with what angelic 
sweetness he bore his captivity. The fact is, he bore it 
with so much resignation that no other person in the 
world could see that he was unhappy. His life undis- 
turbed by duns ; his day was his from morning till 
night ; his diet was good, his acquaintances jovial, his 
purse tolerably well supplied, and he had not one single 
care to annoy him. 

Mrs. Crump and Woolsey, perhaps, received Mor- 
gi ana's account of her husband's miseries with some in- 
credulity. The latter was now a daily visitor to Sad- 
ler's Wells. His love for Morgiana had become a 
warm, fatherly, generous regard for her ; and it was out 
of the honest fellow's cellar that the wine used to come 
which did so much good to Mr. Walker's chest ; and he 
tried a thousand ways to make Morgiana happy. 



162 

A very happy day, indeed, it was when, returning 
from her visit to the Fleet, she found in her mother's 
sitting-room her dear grand rosewood piano, and every 
one of her music-books, which the kind-hearted tailor 
had purchased at the sale of Walker's effects. And I 
am not ashamed to say, that Morgiana herself was so 
charmed, that when as usual, Mr. Woolsey came to 
drink tea in the evening, she actually gave him a kiss, 
which frightened Mr. Woolsey, and made him blush 
exceedingly. She sat down, and played him that even- 
ing every one of the songs which he liked — the old 
songs — none of your Italian stuff. Podmore, the old 
music- master, was there too; and was delighted and 
astonished at the progress in singing which Morgiana 
had made ; and when the little party separated, he took 
Mr. Woolsey by the hand, and said, " Give me leave to 
tell you, sir, that you're a trump" 

" That he is," said Canterfield, the first tragic ; " an 
honour to human nature. A man whose hand is open 
as day to melting charity, and whose heart ever melts 
at the tale of woman's distress." 

"Pooh, pooh, stuff and nonesense, sir," said the 
tailor ; but, upon my word, Mr. Canterfield's words 
were perfectly correct. I wish as much could be said in 
favour of Woolsey's old rival, Mr. Eglantine, who at- 
tended the sale too, but it was with a horrid kind of 
satisfaction at the thought that Walker was ruined. 
He bought the yellow satin sofa before mentioned, and 
transferred it to what he calls his " sitting-room," where 
it is to this day, bearing many marks of the best bears'- 
grease. Woolsey bid against Baroski for the piano, 
very nearly up to the actual value of the instrument, 



THE RAVENS WING. 163 

when the artist withdrew from competition ; and when 
he was sneering at the ruin of Mr. Walker, the tailor 
sternly interrupted him by saying, " What the deuce 
are you sneering at ? You did it, sir ; and you're paid 
every shilling of your claim, ain't you ?" On which 
Baroski turned round to Miss Larkins, and said, " Mr. 
Woolsey was a ' snop ;' " the very words, though pro- 
nounced somewhat differently, which the gallant Cornet 
Fipkin had applied to him. 

Well ; so he was a snob. But, vulgar as he was, T 
declare, for my part, that I have a greater respect for 
Mr. Woolsey than for any single nobleman or gentle- 
man mentioned in this true history. 

It will be seen from the names of Messrs. Canter- 
field and Podmore that Morgiana was again in the midst 
of the widow Crump's favourite theatrical society ; and 
this, indeed, was the case. The widow's little room 
was hung round with the pictures which were mention- 
ed at the commencement of the story as decorating the 
bar of the Bootjack ; and several times in a week she 
received her friends from the Wells, and entertained 
them with such humble refreshments of tea and crumpets 
as her modest means permitted her to purchase. Among 
these persons Morgiana lived and sung quite as con- 
tentedly as she had ever done among the demireps of 
her husband's society ; and, only she did not dare to 
own it to herself, was a great deal happier than she had 
been for many a day. Mrs. Captain Walker was still 
a great lady amongst them. Even in his time, Walker, 
the director of three companies, and the owner of the 
splendid pony-chaise, was to these simple persons an 
awful character ; and when mentioned, they talked with 



164 men's wives. 



a great deal of gravity of his being in the country, and 
hoped Mrs. Captain W. had good news of him. They 
all knew he was in the Fleet ; but had he not in prison 
fought a duel with a viscount ? Montmorency (of the 
Norfolk circuit) was in the Fleet too ; and when Canter- 
field went to see poor Montey, the latter had pointed 
out Walker to his friend, who actually hit Lord George 
Tennison across the shoulders in play with a racket-bat ; 
which event was soon made known to the whole green- 
room. 

" They had me up one day," said Montmorency, 
" to sing a comic song, and give my recitations ; and 
we had champagne and lobster-salad ; such nobs !" add- 
ed the player. " Billingsgate and Vauxhall were there 
too, and left college at eight o'clock." 

When Morgiana was told of the circumstance by 
her mother, she hoped her dear Howard had enjoyed 
the evening, and was thankful that for once he could 
forget his sorrows. Nor, somehow, was she ashamed of 
herself for being happy afterwards, but gave way to her 
natural good humour without repentance or self-rebuke. 
I believe, indeed (alas ! why are we made acquainted 
with the same fact regarding ourselves long after it is 
past and gone ?) — I believe these were the happiest 
days of Morgiana's whole life. She had no cares except 
the pleasant one of attending on her husband, an easy, 
smiling temperament which made her regardless of to- 
morrow ; and add to this a delightful hope relative to a 
certain interesting event which was about to occur, and 
which I shall not particularise further than by saying, 
that she was cautioned against too much singing by Mr. 
Squills, her medical attendant ; and that widow Crump 



THE RAVEN SWING. 165 

was busy making* up a vast number of little caps and 
diminutive cambric shirts, such as delighted grand- 
mothers are in the habit of fashioning. I hope this is 
as genteel a way of signifying the circumstance which 
was about to take place in the Walker family as Miss 
Prim herself could desire. Mrs. Walker's mother was 
about to become a grandmother. There's a phrase ! 
The Morning Post, which says this story is vulgar, I'm 
sure cannot quarrel with that I don't believe the whole 
Court Guide would convey an intimation more delicately. 

Well, Mrs. Crump's little grandchild was born, en- 
tirely to the dissatisfaction, I must say, of his father ; 
who, when the infant was brought to him in the Fleet, 
had him abruptly covered up in his cloak again, from 
which he had been removed by the jealous prison door- 
keepers ; why, do you think ? Walker had a quarrel 
with one of them, and the wretch persisted in believing 
that the bundle Mrs. Crump was bringing to her son-in- 
law was a bundle of disguised brandy ! 

" The brutes !" said the lady ; " and the father's a 
brute too," said she. " He takes no more notice of me 
than if I was a kitchen-maid, and of Woolsey than if 
he was a leg of mutton — the dear, blessed, little cherub !" 

Mrs. Crump was a mother-in-law ; let us pardon her 
hatred of her daughter's husband. 

The Woolsey compared in the above sentence both 
to a leg of mutton and a cherub, was not the eminent 
member of the firm of Lindsey, Woolsey, and Co., but 
the little baby, who was christened Howard Woolsey 
Walker, with the full consent of the father, who said the 
tailor was a deuced good fellow, and felt really obliged 
to him for the sherry, for a frock-coat which he lot him 



166 men's wives. 



have in prison, and for his kindness to Morgiana. The 
tailor loved the little boy with all his soul ; he attended 
his mother to her churching, and the child to the font ; 
and, as a present to his little godson on his christening, 
he sent two yards of the finest white kerseymere in his 
shop to make him a cloak. The duke had had a pair 
of inexpressibles off that very piece. 

House-furniture is bought and sold, music-lessons 
are given, children are born and christened, ladies are 
confined and churched — time, in other words, passes, — 
and yet Captain Walker still remains in prison ! Does 
it not seem strange that he should still languish there 
between palisaded walls near Fleet Market, and that 
he should not be restored to that active and fashionable 
world of which he was an ornament ? The fact is, the 
captain had been before the court for the examination 
of his debts ; and the commissioners, with a cruelty 
quite shameful towards a fallen man, had qualified his 
ways of getting money in most severe language, and had 
sent him back to prison again for the space of nine cal- 
endar months, an indefinite period, and until his accounts 
could be made up. This delay Walker bore like a 
philosopher, and, far from repining, was still the gayest 
fellow of the tennis-court, and the soul of the midnight 
carouse. 

There is no use in raking up old stories, and hunting 
through files of dead newspapers, to know what were 
the specific acts which made the commissioner so angry 
with Captain Walker. Many a rogue has come before 
the court, and passed through it since then; and I 
would lay a wager that Howard Walker was not a bit 
worse than his neighbours. But as he was not a lord, 



THE RAVENS WING. 1G7 

and as he had no friends on coming out of prison, and 
had settled no money on his wife, and had, as it must 
be confessed, an exceedingly bad character, it is not 
likely that the latter would be forgiven him when once 
more free in the world. For instance, when Double- 
quits left the Fleet, he was received with open arms by 
his family, and had two-and-thirty horses in his stables 
before a week was over. Pam, of the Dragoons, came 
out, and instantly got a place as government courier, — 
a place found so good of late years (and no wonder, it 
is better pay than that of a colonel), that our noblemen 
and gentry eagerly press for it. Frank Hurricane was 
sent out as registrar of Tobago, or Sago, or Ticondera- 
go ; in fact, for a younger son of good family it is rather 
advantageous to get into debt twenty or thirty thousand 
pounds ; you are are sure of a good place afterwards 
in the colonies. Your friends are so anxious to get rid 
of you, that they will move heaven and earth to serve 
you. And so all the above companions of misfortune 
with Walker were speedily made comfortable ; but he 
had no rich parents ; his old father was dead in York 
jail. How was he to start in the world again ? What 
friendly hand was there to fill his pocket with gold, and 
his cup with sparkling champagne ? He was, in fact, 
an object of the greatest pity, — for I know of no greater 
than a gentleman of his habits without the means of 
gratifying them. He must live well, and he has not 
the means. Is there a more pathetic case ? As for 
a mere low beggar — some labourless labourer, or some 
weaver out of place — don't let us throw away our com- 
passion upon them. Psha! they're accustomed to 
starve. They can sleep upon boards, or dine off a 



168 men's wives. 



crust ; whereas, a gentleman would die in the same sit- 
uation. I think this was poor Morgiana's way of rea- 
soning. 

For Walker's cash in prison beginning presently to 
run low, and knowing quite well that the dear fellow 
could not exist there without the luxuries to which he 
had been accustomed, she borrowed money from her 
mother, until the poor old lady was a sec. She even 
confessed, with tears, to Woolsey, that she was in par- 
ticular want of twenty pounds, to pay a poor milliner, 
whose debt she could not bear to put in her husband's 
schedule. And I need not say she carried the money 
to her husband, who might have been greatly benefited 
by it, — only he had a bad run of luck at the cards ; 
and how the deuce can a man help that ? 

Woolsey had repurchased for her one of the Cash- 
mere shawls. She left it behind her one day at the 
Fleet prison, and some rascal stole it there, having the 
grace, however, to send Woolsey the ticket, signifying 
the place where it had been pawned. Who could the 
scoundrel have been ? Woolsey swore a great oath 
and fancied he knew ; but if it was Walker himself (as 
Woolsey fancied, and probably as was the case) who 
made away with the shawl, being pressed thereto by 
necessity, was it fair to call him a scoundrel for so doing, 
and should we not rather laud the delicacy of his pro- 
ceeding ? He was poor ; who can command the cards ? 
but he did not wish his wife should know how poor ; he 
could not bear that she should suppose him arrived at 
the necessity of pawning a shawl. 

She who had such beautiful ringlets of a sudden 
pleaded cold in the head, took to wearing caps. One 



THE HAVEN SWING. 169 



summer evening, as she and the baby and Mrs. Crump 
and Woolsey (let us say all four babies together) were 
laughing and playing in Mrs. Crump's drawing-room — 
playing the most absurd gambols, fat Mrs. Crump, for 
instance, hiding behind the sofa, Woolsey chuck-chuck- 
ing, cock-a-doodle-doing, and performing those inde- 
scribable freaks which gentlemen with philoprogenitive 
organs will execute in the company of children, in the 
midst of their play the baby gave a tug at his mother's 
cap ; off it came — her hair was cut close to her head. 

Morgiana turned as red as sealing-wax, and trembled 
very much ; Mrs. Crump screamed, " My child, where 
is your hair V and Woolsey bursting out with a most 
tremendous oath against Walker that would send 
Miss Prim into convulsions, put his handkerchief to his 
face, and actually wept. " The infernal bubble-ubble- 
ackguard !" said he, roaring and clenching his fists. 

As he had passed the Bower of Bloom a few days 
before, he saw Mossrose, who was combing out a jet- 
black ringlet, and held it up as if for Woolsey's exam- 
ination, with a peculiar grin. The tailor did not under- 
stand the joke, but he saw now what had happened. 
Morgiana had sold her hair for five guineas ; she would 
have sold her arm had her husband bidden her. On 
looking in her drawers it was found she had sold almost 
all her wearing apparel ; the child's clothes were all 
there, however. It was because her husband talked of 
flisposing of a gilt coral that the child had, that she had 
parted with the locks which had formed her pride. 

" I'll give you twenty guineas for that hair, you in- 
famous fat coward," roared the little tailor to Eglantine 

that evening. " Give it up, or I'll kill you — me " 

8 



170 men's wives. 



" Mr. Mossrose ! Mr. Mossrose !" shouted the per- 
fumer. 

" Yell, vatsh de matter, vatsh de row, fight avay, 
my boys ; two to one on the tailor," said Mr. Mossrose. 
much enjoying the sport (for Woolsey, striding through 
the shop without speaking to him, had rushed into the 
studio, where he plumped upon Eglantine). 

" Tell him about that hair, sir." 

" That hair ! Now keep yourself quiet, Mister Tim- 
ble, and don't tink for to bully me. You mean Mrs. 
Yalker's 'air ? Yj, she sold it me." 

" And the more blackguard you for buying it ? 
Will you take twenty guineas for it ?" 

" No," said Mossrose. 

" Twenty-five P 

" Can't," said Mossrose. 

" Hang it ; will you take forty ? There." 

" I vish I'd kep it," said the Hebrew gentleman, 
with unfeigned regret, " Eglantine dressed it this very 
night." 

" For Countess Baldenstiern, the Swedish Hambasa- 
dor's lady," says Eglantine (his Hebrew partner was by 
no means a favourite with the ladies, and only superin- 
tended the accounts of the concern). " It's this very 
night at Devonshire 'Ouse, with four hostrich plumes, 
lappets, and trimmings. And now, Mr. Woolsey, I'll 
trouble you to apologise." 

Mr. Woolsey did not answer, but walked up to Mr. 
Eglantine and snapped his fingers so close under the 
perfumer's nose that the latter started back and seized 
the bell-rope. Mossrose burst out laughing, and the 
tailor walked majestically from the shop with both hands 
stuck between the lappets of his coat, 



THE RAVENSWING. 17 1 

" My dear," said he to Morgiana a short time after- 
wards, " you must not encourage that husband of yours 
in his extravagance, and sell the clothes off youi poor 
back, that he may feast and act the fine gentleman in 
prison." 

" It is his health, poor dear soul !" interposed Mrs. 
Walker, "his chest. Every farthing of the money 
goes to the doctors, poor fellow I" 

"Well, now listen : I am a rich man (it was a great 
fib, for Woolsey's income, as a junior partner of the 
firm, was but a small one) ; I can very well afford to 
make him an allowance while he is in the Fleet, and 
have written to him to say so. But if you ever give 
him a penny, or sell a trinket belonging to you, upon 
my word and honour, I will withdraw the allowance, 
and, though it would go to my heart, I'll never see you 
again. You wouldn't make me unhappy, would you ?" 

" I'd go on my knees to serve you, and Heaven 
bless you," said the wife. 

" Well, then, you must give me this promise." And 
she did. "And now," said he, "your mother, and Pod- 
more, and I, have been talking over matters, and we've 
agreed that you may make a very good income for your- 
self, though, to be sure, I wish it could have been man- 
aged any other way; but needs must, you know. 
You're the finest singer in the universe." 

" La !" said Morgiana, highly delighted. 

" / never heard anything like you, though I'm no 
judge. Podmore says he is sure you will do very well, 
and has no doubt you might get very good engage- 
ments at concerts or on the stage ; and as that husband 
will never do any good, and you have a child to sup- 
port, sing you must." 



172 men's wives. 



" Oh ! how glad I should be to pay his debts and 
repay all he has done for me," cried Mrs. Walker. 
" Think of his giving two hundred guineas to Mr. Ba- 
roski to have me taught. Was not that kind of him ? 
Do you really think I should succeed ?" 

" There's Miss Larkins has succeeded." 

"The little, high-shouldered, vulgar thing!" says 
Morgiana. " I'm sure I ought to succeed if she did." 

" She sing against Morgiana ?" said Mrs. Crump. 
" I'd like to see her, indeed ! She ain't fit to snuff a 
candle to her." 

" I dare say not," said the tailor, " though I don't 
understand the thing myself; but if Morgiana can make 
a fortune, why shouldn't she ?" 

" Heaven knows we want it, Woolsey," cried Mrs. 
Crump. " And to see her on the stage was always the 
wish of my heart ;" and so it had formerly been the 
wish of Morgiana, and now, with the hope of helping 
her husband and child, the wish became a duty, and 
she fell to practising once more from morning till night. 

One of the most generous of men and tailors who 
ever lived now promised, if further instruction should 
be considered necessary (though that he could hardly 
believe possible), that he would lend Morgiana any sum 
required for the payment of lessons ; and accordingly 
she once more betook herself, under Podmore's advice, 
to the singing school. Baroski's academy was, after the 
passages between them, out of the question, and she 
placed herself under the instruction of the excellent 
English composer Sir George Thrum, whose large and 
awful wife, Lady Thrum, dragon of virtue and propriety, 
kept watch over the master and the pupils, and was 



THE RAVENSWING. 173 

the sternest guardian of female virtue on or off any 
stage. 

Morgiana came at a propitious moment. Baroski 
had lanced Miss Larkins under the name of Ligonier. 
The Ligonier was enjoying considerable success, and 
was singing classical music to tolerable audiences, 
whereas Miss Butts, Sir George's last pupil, had turned 
out a complete failure, and the rival house was only 
able to make a faint opposition to the new star with 
Miss M'Whirter, who, though an old favorite, had lost 
her upper notes and her front teeth, and, the fact was, 
drew no longer. 

Directly Sir George heard Mrs. Walker he tapped 
Podmore, who accompanied her, on the waistcoat, and 
said, " Poddy, thank you ; we'll cut the orange-boy's 
throat with that voice." It was by the familiar title of 
orange-boy that the great Baroski was known among 
his opponents. 

" We'll crush him, Podmore," said Lady Thrum, in 
her deep hollow voice. "You may stop and dine." 
And Podmore stayed to dinner, and ate cold mutton, 
and drank Marsala with the greatest reverence for the 
great English composer. The very next day Lady 
Thrum hired a pair of horses and paid a visit to Mrs. 
Crump and her daughter at Sadler's Wells. 

All these things were kept profoundly secret from 
Walker, who received very magnanimously the allow- 
ance of two guineas a-week which Woolsey made him, 
and with the aid of the few shillings his wife could 
bring him, managed to exist as best he might. He did 
not dislike gin when he could get no claret, and the 
former liquor, under the name of "tape" used to be 



174 men's wives. 



measured out pretty liberally in what was formerly her 
Majesty's prison of the Fleet. 

Morgiana pursued her studies under Thrum, and we 
shall hear in the next chapter how it was she changed 
her name to Raven swing. 



CHAPTER VII. 

IN WHICH MORGIANA ADVANCES TOWARDS FAME AND 
HONOUR, AND IN WHICH SEVERAL GREAT LITERARY 
CHARACTERS MAKE THEIR APPEARANCE. 

" We must begin, my dear madam," said Sir George 
Thrum, " by unlearning all that Mr. Baroski (of whom 
I do not wish to speak with the slightest disrespect) 
has taught you !" 

Morgiana knew that every professor says as much, 
and submitted to undergo the study requisite for Sir 
George's system with perfect good grace. An fond, as 
I was given to understand, the methods of the two art- 
ists were pretty similar ; but as there was rivalry be- 
tween them, and continual desertion of scholars from 
one school to another, it was fair for each to take all 
the credit he could get in the success of any pupil. If 
a pupil failed, for instance, Thrum would say Baroski 
had 'spoiled her irretrievably ; while the German would 
regret " Dat dat yong voman, who had a good organ, 
should have trown away her dime wid dat old Drum." 
When one of these deserters succeeded, " Yes, yes," 



THE RAVEN SWING. 175 

would either professor cry, " I formed her, she owes her 
fortune to me." Both of them thus, in future days, 
claimed the education of the famous Ravenswing ; and 
even Sir George Thrum, though he wished to termer 
the Ligonier, pretended that her present success was his 
work, because once she had been brought by her mother, 
Mrs. Larkins, to sing for Sir George's approval. 

When the two professors met it was with the most 
delighted cordiality on the part of both. " Mein lieber 
Herr" Thrum w r ould say (with some malice), " your 
sonata in x flat is divine." " Chevalier," Baroski would 
reply, " dat andante movement in w is worthy of Bee- 
thoven. I gif you my sacred honour," and so forth. 
In fact, they loved each other, as gentlemen in their 
profession always do. 

The two famous professors conduct their academies 
on very opposite principles. Baroski writes ballet mu- 
sic ; Thrum, on the contrary, says u he cannot but de- 
plore the dangerous fascinations of the dance," and 
writes more for Exeter Hall and Birmingham. "While 
Baroski drives a cab in the park with a very suspicious 
Mademoiselle Leocadie, or Amenaide, by his side, you 
may see Thrum walking to evening church with his 
lady, and hymns are sung there of his own composition. 
He belongs to the Athenaeum Club, he goes to the 
levee once a-year, he does every thing that a respectable 
man should, and if, by the means of this respectability, 
he manages to make his little trade far more profitable 
than it otherwise would be, are we to quarrel with him 
for it ? 

Sir George, in fact, had every reason to be respecta- 
ble. He had been a choir-boy at Windsor, had played 



176 men's wives. 



to the old king's violoncello, had been intimate with 
him, and had received knighthood at the hand of his 
revered sovereign. He had a snuff-box which his ma- 
jesty gave him, and portraits of him and the young 
princes all over the house. He had also a foreign order 
(no other, indeed, than the Elephant and Castle of 
.Kalbsbraten-Pumpernichel) conferred upon him by the 
Grand Duke when here with the allied sovereigns in 
1814. With this riband round his neck, on gala days, 
and in a white waistcoat, the old gentleman looked 
splendid as he moved along in a Windsor button, and 
neat black small-clothes, and silk stockings. He lived 
in an old, tall, dingy house, furnished in the reign of 
George III., his beloved master, and not much more 
cheerful now than a family vault. They are awfully 
funereal those ornaments of the close of the last century, 
— tall, gloomy, horse-hair chairs, mouldy Turkey car- 
pets, with wretched druggets to guard them, little 
cracked sticking-plaster miniatures of people in tours 
and pig-tails over high-shouldered mantel-pieces, two 
dismal urns on each side of a lanky side-board, and 
in the midst a queer twisted receptacle for worn-out 
knives with green handles. Under the side-board 
stands a cellaret that looks as if it held half a bottle of 
currant wine, and a shivering plate-warmer that never 
could get any comfort out of the wretched old cramped 
grate yonder. Don't you know in such houses the 
gray gloom that hangs over the stairs, the dull-coloured 
old carpet that winds its way up the same, growing 
thinner, duller, and more threadbare, as it mounts to 
the bed-room floors ? There is something awful in the 
bed-room of a respectable old couple of sixty- five. 



THE RAVENSWING. 177 

Think of the old feathers, turbans, bugles, petticoats, 
pomatum-pots, spencers, white satin shoes, false fronts, 
the old flaccid, boneless stays tied up in faded riband, 
the dusky fans, the old forty years' old baby-linen, the 
letters of Sir George when he was young, poor Murza's 
doll, who died in 1803, Frederick's first corduroy 
breeches, and the newspaper which contains the account 
of his distinguishing himself at the siege of Seringa- 
patam. All these lie somewhere damp and squeezed 
down into glum old presses and wardrobes. At that 
glass the wife has sat many times these fifty years ; in 
that old morocco bed her children were born. Where 
are they now ? Fred, the brave captain, and Charles, 
the saucy colleger ; there hangs a drawing of him done 
by Mr. Beechy, and that sketch by Cosway was the 
very likeness of Louisa before * * * * * * 

" Mr. Fitz-Boodle ! for Heaven's sake come down. 
What are you doing in a lady's bed-room ?" 

" The fact is, madam, I had no business there in 
life, but, having had quite enough wine with Sir George, 
my thoughts had wandered up-stairs into the sanctuary 
of female excellence, where your ladyship nightly reposes. 
You do not sleep so well now as in old days, though 
there is no patter of little steps to wake you overhead." 

They call that room the nursery still, and the little 
wicket still hangs at the upper stairs ; it has been there 
! )i' forty years — bon Dieu ! Can't you see the ghosts 
»i| little fans peering over it? I wonder whether they 
£St up in the night as the moonlight shines into the 
blank, vacant old room, and play there solemnly with 
little ghostly horses, and the spirits of dolls, and tops 
that turn and turn, but don't hum. 



178 men's \yives. 



Once more, sir, come down to the lower story — that 
is, to the Morgiana story — with which the above sen- 
tences have no more to do than this morning's leading 
article in The Times ; only it was at this house of Sir 
George Thrum's that I met Morgiana. Sir George, in 
old days, had instructed some of the female members 
of our family, and I recollect cutting my fingers as a 
child with one of these attenuated green-handled knives 
in the queer box yonder. 

In those days Sir George Thrum was the first great 
musical teacher of London, and the royal patronage 
brought him a great number of fashionable pupils, of 
whom Lady Fitz-Boodle was one. It was a long, long 
time ago ; in fact, Sir George Thrum was old enough 
to remember persons who had been present at Mr. 
Braham's first appearance, and the old gentleman's days 
of triumph had been those of Billington and Incledon, 
Catalani and Madame Storace. 

He was the author of several operas (The Camel 
Driver, Britons Alarmed ; or, the Siege of Bergen-op- 
Zoom, <fec, &c.), and, of course, of songs which had 
considerable success in their day, but are forgotten now, 
and are as much faded and out of fashion as those old 
carpets which we have described in the professor's 
house, and which were, doubtless, very brilliant once. 
But such is the fate of carpets, of flowers, of music, of 
men, and of the most admirable novels — even this story 
will not be alive for many centuries. Well, well, why 
struggle against Fate ? 

But, though his hey-day of fashion was gone, Sir 
George still held his place among the musicians of the 
old school, conducted occasionally at the Ancient Con- 



Tlii. RAVEN SWING. 170 

certs and the Philharmonic, and his glees are still fa- 
vourites after public dinners, and are sung by those old 
bacchanalians, in chestnut wigs, who attend for the 
purposes of amusing the guests on such occasions of 
festivity. The great old people at the gloomy old con- 
certs before mentioned always pay Sir George marked 
respect ; and, indeed, from the old gentleman's peculiar 
behaviour to his superiors it is impossible they should 
not be delighted with him, so he leads at almost every 
one of the concerts in the old-fashioned houses in town. 

Becomingly obsequious to his superiors, he is with 
the rest of the world properly majestic, and has obtained 
no small success by his admirable and undeviating 
respectability. Respectability has been his great card 
through life ; ladies can trust their daughters at Sir 
George Thrum's academy. "A good musician, mad- 
am," says he to the mother of a new pupil, "should not 
only have a fine ear, a good voice, and an indomitable 
industry, but, above all, a faultless character — faultless, 
that is, as far as our poor nature will permit. And you 
will remark that those young persons with whom your 
lovely daughter, Miss Smith, will pursue her musical 
studies, are all, in a moral point of view, as spotless as 
that charming young lady. How should it be other- 
wise ? I have been myself the father of a family ; I 
have been honoured with the intimacy of the wisest 
and best of kings, my late sovereign George III., and 
I can proudly show an example of decorum to my 
pupils in my Sophia. Mrs. Smith, I have the honour 
of introducing to you my Lady Thrum." 

The old lady would rise at this, and make a gigantic 
courtesy, such a one as had begun the minuet at Rane- 



ISO men's wives. 



lagh fifty years ago ; and, the introduction ended, Mrs. 
Smith would retire, after having seen the portraits of 
the princes, his late majesty's snuff-box, and a piece of 
music which he used to play, noted by himself — Mrs. 
Smith, I say, would drive back to Baker Street delighted 
to think that her Frederica had secured so eligible and 
respectable a master. I forgot to say that, during the 
interview between Mrs. Smith and Sir George, the latter 
would be called out of his study by his black servant, 
and my Lady Thrum would take that opportunity of 
mentioning when he was knighted, and how he got his 
foreign order, and deploring the sad condition of other 
musical professors, and the dreadful immorality which 
sometimes arose in consequence of their laxness. Sir 
George was a good deal engaged to dinners in the sea- 
son, and if invited to dine with a nobleman, as he might 
possibly be on the day when Mrs. Smith requested the 
honour of his company, he would write back " that he 
should have had the sincerest happiness in waiting upon 
Mrs. Smith in Baker Street, if, previously, my Lord 
Tweedledale had not been so kind as to engage him." 
This letter, of course shown by Mrs. Smith to her 
friends, was received by them with proper respect ; and 
thus, in spite of age and new fashions, Sir George still 
reigned pre-eminent for a mile round Cavendish Square. 
By the young pupils of the Academy he was called Sir 
Charles Grandison, and, indeed, fully deserved this title 
on account of the "indomitable respectability" of his 
whole actions. 

It was under this gentleman that Morgiana made 
her debut in public life. I do not know what arrange- 
ments may have been made between Sir George Thrum 



THE RAVENSWING. 181 



and his pupil regarding the profits which were to accrue 
to the former from engagements procured by him for 
the latter ; but there was, no doubt, an understanding 
between them. For Sir George, respectable as he was, 
had the reputation of being extremely clever at a bar- 
gain ; and Lady Thrum herself, in her great high- 
tragedy way, could purchase a pair of soles or select a 
leg of mutton with the best housekeeper in London. 

When, however, Morgiana had been for some six 
months under his tuition, he began for some reason or 
other to be exceedingly hospitable, and invited his 
friends to numerous entertainments, at one of which. 
as I have said, I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. 
Walker. 

Although the w r orthy musician's dinners were not 
good, the old knight had some excellent wine in his 
cellar, and his arrangement of his party deserves to be 
commended. 

For instance, he meets me and Bob Fitz-Urse in 
Pall Mall, at whose paternal house he was also a visitor. 
"My dear young gentlemen," says he, "will you come 
and dine with a poor musical composer? I have some 
comet-hock, and, what is more curious to you perhaps 
as men of wit, one or two of the great literary characters 
of London whom you would like to see — quite curiosi- 
ties, my dear young friends." And we agreed to go. 

To the literary men he says, " I have a little quiet 
party at home, Lord Roundtowers, the Honourable Mr. 
Fitz-Urse of the Life Guards, and a few more. Can you 
tear yourself away from the war of wits, and take a 
quiet dinner with a few mere men about town 2" 

The literary men instantly purchase new satin stocks 



MEN S WIVES. 



and white gloves, arid are delighted to fancy themselves 
members of the world of fashion. Instead of inviting 
twelve Royal Academicians, or a dozen authors, or a 
dozen men of science to dinner, as his Grace the Duke 

of , and the Right Honourable Sir Robert , 

are in the habit of doing once a-year, this plan of fusion 
is the one they should adopt. JSTot invite all artists, as 
they would invite all farmers to a rent-dinner ; but they 
should have a proper commingling of artists and men 
of the world. There is one of the latter whose name is 

George Savage Fitz-Boodle, who But let us return 

to Sir George Thrum. 

Fitz-Urse and I arrive at the dismal old house, and 
are conducted up the staircase by a black servant, who 
shouts out, " Missa Fiss-Boodle — the Honourable Missa 
Fiss-XJrse !" It was evident that Lady Thrum had 
instructed the swarthy groom of the chambers (for there 
is nothing particularly honourable in my friend Fitz's 
face that I know of, unless an abominable squint may 
be said to be so). Lady Thrum, whose figure is some- 
thing like that of the shot-tower opposite Waterloo 
Bridge, makes a majestic inclination and a speech to 
signify her pleasure at receiving under her roof two of 
the children of Sir George's best pupils. A lady in 
black velvet is seated by the old fireplace, with whom 
a stout gentleman in an exceedingly light coat and 
ornamental waistcoat is talking very busily. "The 
great star of the night," whispers our host. "Mrs. 
Walker, gentlemen — the Ravenswing ! She is talking 
to the famous Mr. Slang, of the theatre." 

" Is she a fine singer ?" says Fitz-Urse. " She's a 
very fine woman." 



THE HAVEXSWING. 183 

" My dear young friends, you shall hear to-night ! 
I, who have heard every fine voice in Europe, confidently 
pledge my respectability that the Ravens wing is equal 
to them all. She has the graces, sir, of a Venus with the 
mind of a muse. She is a syren, sir, without the danger- 
ous qualities of one. She is hallowed, sir, by her misfor- 
tunes as by her genius ; and I am proud to think that 
my instructions have been the means of developing the 
wondrous qualities that were latent within her until now." 

" You don't say so !" says gobemouche Fitz-Urse. 

Having thus indoctrinated Mr. Fitz-Urse, Sir George 
takes another of his guests, and proceeds to work upon 
him, " My dear Mr. Bludyer, how do you do ? Mr. 
Fitz-Boodle, Mr. Bludyer, the brilliant and accomplished 
wit, whose sallies in the Tomahawk delight us every 
Saturday. Nay, no blushes, my dear sir ; you are very 
wicked, but oh ! so pleasant. Well, Mr. Bludyer, I am 
glad to see you, sir, and hope you will have a favourable 
opinion of our genius, sir. As I was saying to Mr. Fitz- 
Boodle, she has the graces of a Venus with the mind of 
a muse. She is a syren, without the dangerous qualities 
of one," &c. This little speech was made to half-a-dozen 
persons in the course of the evening — persons, for the 
most part, connected with the public journals or the 
theatrical world. There was Mr. Squinny, the editor of 
the Flowers of Fashion ; Mr. Dermond Mulligan, the 
poet, and reporter for a morning paper ; and other 
worthies of their calling. For though Sir George is a 
respectable man, and as high-minded and moral an old 
gentleman as ever wore knee-buckles, he does not neg- 
lect the little arts of popularity, and can condescend to 
receive very queer company if need be. 



184 MEN'S WIVES. 



For instance, at the dinner-party at which I had the 
honour of assisting, and at which on the right hand of 
Lady Thrum sat the oblige nobleman, whom the Thrums 
were a great deal too wise to omit (the sight of a lord 
does good to us commoners, or why else should we be 
so anxious to have one ?). In the second place of hon- 
our, and on her ladyship's left hand, sat Mr. Slang, the 
manager of one of the theatres, a gentleman whom my 
Lady Thrum would scarcely, but for a great necessity's 
sake, have been induced to invite to her table. He 
had the honour of leading Mrs. Walker to dinner, who 
looked splendid in black velvet and a turban, full of 
health and smiles. 

Lord Roundtowers is an old gentleman who has been 
at the theatres five times a-week for these fifty years, a 
living dictionary of the stage, recollecting every actor 
and actress who has appeared upon it for half a century. 
He perfectly well remembered Miss Delaney in Morgi- 
ana ; he knew what had become of Ali Baba, and how 
Cassim had left the stage, and was now the keeper of 
a public-house. All this store of knowledge he kept 
quietly to himself, or only delivered in confidence to his 
next neighbour in the intervals of the banquet, which 
he enjoys prodigiously. He lives at an hotel : if not 
invited to dine, eats a mutton chop very humbly at his 
club, and finishes his evening after the play at Crock- 
ford's, whither he goes not for the sake of the play but 
of the supper there. He is described in the Court 
Guide as of Simmer's Hotel, and of Roundtowers, 
County Cork. It is said that the round towers really 
exist. But he has not been in Ireland since the rebel- 
lion ; and his property is so hampered with ancestral 



THE RAVEN SWING. 185 

mortgages, and rent-charges, and annuities, that his in- 
come is barely sufficient to provide the modest mutton- 
chop before alluded to. He has, any time these fifty 
years, lived in the wretchedest company in London, and 
is, withal, as harmless, mild, good-natured, innocent an 
old gentleman, as can readily be seen. 

" Roundy," shouts the elegant Mr. Slang across the 
table, with a voice which makes Lady Thrum shudder, 
" Tuff, a glass of wine." 

My lord replies meekly, " Mr. Slang, I shall have 
very much pleasure. What shall it be V 

"There is Maderia near you, my lord," says my 
lady, pointing to a tall thin decanter of the fashion of 
the year. 

" Madeira ! Marsala, by Jove, your ladyship means ?" 
shouts Mr. Slang. " No, no, old birds are not caught 
with chaff. Thrum, old boy, let's have some of your 
comet-hock." 

" My Lady Thrum, I believe that is Marsala," says 
the knight, blushing a little, in reply to a question from 
his Sophia. " Ajax, the hock to Mr. Slang." 

" I'm in that," yells Bludyer from the end of the 
table. " My lord, I'll join you." 

" Mr. , I beg your pardon — I shall be very 

happy to take wine with you, sir." 

" It is Mr. Bludyer, the celebrated newspaper- 
writer," whispers Lady Thrum. 

"Bludyer, Bludyer? A very clever man, I dare 
say. He has a very loud voice, and reminds me of 
Brett. Does your ladyship remember Brett who played 
the Fathers at the Haymarket in 1802 ?" 

" What an old stupid Roundtowers is !" says Slang. 



186 men's wives. 



archly, nudging Mrs. Walker in the side. "How'* 
Walker, eh ?" 

" My husband is in the country," replied Mrs. 
Walker, hesitatingly. 

" Gammon ! / know where he is ! Law bless you ! 
— don't blush. I've been there myself a dozen times. 
We were talking about quod, Lady Thrum. Were you 
ever in college J" 

" I was at the Commemoration at Oxford in 1814, 
when the sovereigns were there, and at Cambridge 
when Sir George received his degree of Doctor of 
Music." 

" Laud, laud, thats not the college we mean." 

" There is also the college in Gower Street, where 
my grandson " 

" This is the college in Queer Street, ma'am, haw, 
haw ! Mulligan, you divole (in an Irish accent), a 
glass of wine with you. Wine, here, you waiter ! 
What's your name, you black nigger ? ' Possum up a 
gum-tree, eh ? Fill him up. Dere he go" (imitating 
the Mandingo manner of speaking English). 

In this agreeable way would Mr. Slang rattle on, 
speedily making himself the centre of the conversation, 
and addressing graceful familiarities to all the gentle- 
men and ladies round him. And if his stories during 
dinner are such as to make ladies present look ex- 
tremely awkward, when the ladies withdraw, he has a 
collection of tales with which he instantly commences, 
and which surpasses all historiettes ever heard. 

It was good to see how the little knight, the most 
moral and calm of men, was compelled to receive these 
stories, and the frightened air with which at the con- 



THE RAVENS WING. 187 

elusion of one of them, he would venture upon a com- 
mendatory grin. His lady, on her part, too, had been 
laboriously civil ; and, on the occasion on which I had 
the honour of meeting this gentleman and Mrs. Walker, 
it was the latter who gave the signal for the withdraw- 
ing to the lady of the house, by saying, " I think, Lady 
Thrum, it is quite time for us to retire." Some exqui- 
site joke of Mr. Slang's was the cause of this abrupt 
disappearance. 

" Don't go, Mrs. Walker," says he, laying hold of 
her scarf ; " don't be off yet. It's only my fun." But 
Morgiana left the room indignantly ; and as they went 
up stairs to the drawing-room, Lady Thrum took oc- 
casion to say, " My dear, in the course of your pro- 
fession you will have to submit to many such famili- 
arities on the part of persons of low breeding, such as I 
fear Mr. Slana' is. But let me caution you against 
giving way to your temper as you did. Did you not 
perceive that / never allowed him to see my inward 
dissatisfaction ] And I make it a particular point that 
you should be very civil to him to-night. Your interests 
— our interests — depend upon it." 

" And are my interests to make me civil to a 
wretch like that ?" 

'• Mrs. Walker, would you wish to give lessons in 
morality and behaviour to Lady Thrum?" said the old 
lady, drawing herself up with great dignity. It was 
evident that she had a very strong desire indeed to con- 
ciliate Mr. Slang ; and hence I have no doubt that Sir 
George was to have a considerable share of Morgiana's 
earnings. 

Mr. Bludyer, the famous editor of The Tomahawk, 



188 men's wives. 



whose jokes Sir George pretended to admire so much 
(Sir George, who never made a joke in his life), was a 
press bravo of considerable talent and no principle, and 
who, to use his own words, would " back himself for a 
slashing article against any man in England !" He 
would not only write, but fight on a pinch, was a good 
scholar and as savage in his manner as with his pen. 
Mr. Squinny is of exactly the opposite school, as delicate 
as milk and water, harmless in his habits, fond of the 
flute when the state of his chest would allow him, a 
great practiser of waltzing and dancing in general, and 
in his journal mildly malicious. He never goes beyond 
the bounds of politeness, but manages to insinuate a 
great deal that is disagreeable to an author in the 
course of twenty lines of criticism. Personally he is 
quite respectable, and lives with two maiden aunts at 
Brompton. Nobody, on the contrary, knows where 
Mr. Bludyer lives. He has houses of call, mysterious 
taverns where he may be found at particular hours by 
those who need him, and where panting publishers are 
in the habit of hunting him up. For a bottle of wine 
and a guinea he will write a page of praise or abuse of 
any man living, or on any subject or on any line of 
politics. " Hang it, sir," says he, " pay me enough and 
I will write down my own father !" According to the 
state of his credit he is dressed either almost in rags, or 
else in the extremest flush of fashion. With the latter 
attire he puts on a haughty and aristocratic air, and would 
slap a duke on the shoulder. If there is one thing 
more dangerous than to refuse to lend him a sum of 
money when he asks for it, it is to lend it to him, for he 
never pays, and never pardons a man to whom he 



THE RAVENS WING. 189 

owes. " Walker refused to cash a bill for me," he had 
been heard to say, " and I'll do for his wife when she 
comes out on the stage !" Mrs. Walker and Sir George 
Thrum were in an agony about the Tomahaivk, hence 
the latter's invitation to Mr. Bludyer. Sir George was 
in a great tremor about the Floivers of Fashion, hence 
his invitation to Mr. Squinny. Mr. Squinny was in- 
troduced to Lord Roundtowers and Mr. Fitz-Urse as 
the most delightful and talented of our young men of 
genius ; and Fitz, who believes every thing any one 
tells him, was quite pleased to have the honour of sit- 
ting near the live editor of a paper. 1 have reason to 
think that Mr. Squinny himself was no less delighted ; 
he looked incessantly to see that his neighbours' plates 
were filled and their glasses not empty, and paid them 
every imaginable attention. I saw him giving his card 
to Fitz-Urse at the end of the second course. 

No particular attention was paid to Mr. Desmond 
Mulligan. Political enthusiasm is his forte. He lives 
and writes in a rapture. He is, of course, a member of 
an inn of court, and greatly addicted to after-dinner 
speaking as a preparation for the bar, where as a young 
man of genius he hopes one day to shine. He is 
almost the only man to whom Bludyer is civil, for, if 
the latter will fight doggedly when there is a necessity 
for so doing, the former fights like an Irishman, and 
has a pleasure in it. He has been " on the ground" I 
don't know how many times, and quitted his country 
on account of a quarrel with government regarding cer- 
tain articles published by him in the Phoenix news- 
paper. With the third bottle, he becomes overpower- 
mgly great on the wrongs of Ireland, and at that period 



190 men's wives. 



generally volunteers a couple or more of Irish melodies, 
selecting the most melancholy in the collection. At five 
in the afternoon you are sure to- see him about the 
House of Commons, and he knows the Reform Club 
(he calls it the Refawrum) as well as if he were a mem- 
ber. It is curious for the contemplative mind to mark 
those mysterious hangers-on of Irish members of par- 
liament — strange runners and aides-de-camp which all 
the honourable gentlemen appear to possess. Des- 
mond, in his political capacity, is one of these, and be- 
sides his calling as reporter to a newspaper, is " our 
well-informed correspondent" of that famous Munster 
paper, the Green Flag of Skibbereen. 

With Mr. Mulligan's qualities and history I only 
became subsequently acquainted. On the present even- 
ing he made but a brief stay at the dinner-table, being 
compelled by his professional duties to attend the 
House of Commons. 

The above formed the party with whom I had the 
honour to dine. What other repasts Sir George Thrum 
may have given, what assemblies of men of mere sci- 
ence he may have invited to give their opinion regard 
ing his prodigy, what other editors of papers he may 
have pacified or rendered favourable, who knows ? On 
the present occasion, we did not quit the dinner-table 
until Mr. Slang the manager was considerably excited 
by wine, and music had been heard for some time in 
the drawing-room over-head during our absence. An 
addition had been made to the Thrum party by the 
arrival of several persons to spend the evening, — a man 
to play on the violin between the singing, a youth to 
play on the piano, Miss Horseman to sing with Mrs. 



THE HAVENS WING. 191 

Walker, and other scientific characters. In a corner 
sat a red-faced old lady, of whom the mistress of the 
mansion took little notice ; and a gentleman with a 
royal button, who blushed and looked exceedingly 
modest. 

" Hang me !" says Mr. Bludyer, who had perfectly 
good reasons for recognising Mr. Woolsey, and who on 
this day chose to assume his aristocratic air, " there's a 
tailor in the room ! What do they mean by asking 
me to meet tradesmen ?" 

" Delaney, my dear," cries Slang, entering the 
room with a reel, " how's your precious health ? Give 
us your hand ! When are we to be married ? Make 
loom for me on the sofa, that's a duck !" 

" Get along, Slang," says Mrs. Crump, addressed by 
the manager by her maiden name (artists generally 
drop the title of honour which peojDle adopt in the 
world, and call each other by their simple surnames) — 
fj get along, Slang, or I'll tell Mrs. S. !" The enterpris- 
ing manager replies by sportively striking Mrs. Crump 
on the side a blow which causes a great giggle from the 
lady insulted, and a most good-humoured threat to box 
Slang's ears. I fear very much that Morgiana's mother 
tli ought Mr. Slang an exceedingly gentlemanlike and 
agreeable person ; besides, she was eager to have his 
good opinion of Mrs. Walker's singing. 

The manager stretched himself out with much 
gracefulness on the sofa, supporting two little dumpy 
legs encased in varnished boots on a chair. 

" Ajax, some tea to Mr. Slang," said my lady, look- 
ing towards that gentleman with a countenance expres- 
sive of some alarm, T thought. 



192 



MEN'S WIVES. 



"No; hang it! my lady," roared he, "no tea for 
me ! I'll tell you what though, Ajax, my boy, bring 
me some brandy and cold water, and set it here on the 
little table close by me." 

" Get every thing, Ajax, to make Mr. Slang comfort- 
able," said our hostess, looking more and more enraged ; 
and poor Sir George, who had been locking up the 
wine in the dismal cellaret below stairs, was obliged to 
disappear again in order to fetch a bottle of brandy for 
the manager. 

" That's right, Ajax, my black prince !" exclaimed 
Slang, when the negro brought the required refreshment ; 
" and now I suppose you'll be wanted in the orchestra 
yonder. Don't Ajax play the cymbals, Sir George ?" 

"Ha, ha, ha! very good — capital!" answered the 
knight, exceedingly frightened ; " but ours is not a mili- 
tary band. Miss Horseman, Mr. Craw, my dear Mrs. 
Ravens wing, shall we begin the trio ? Silence, gentle- 
men, if you please, it is a little piece from my opera of 
the Brigand' } s Bride. Miss Horseman takes the Page's 
part, Mr. Craw is Stiletto the Brigand, my accomplished 
pupil is the Bride," and the music began. 



" The Bride. 
My heart with joy is beating, 
My eyes with tears are dim ; 

The Page. 
Her heart with joy is beating, 
Her eyes are fixed on him ; 

The Brigand. 
My heart with rage is beating, 
In blood my eve-balls swim!" 



THE RAVENSWING. 193 

What may have been the merits of the music or 
the singing, I, of course, cannot guess. Lady Thrum 
sat opposite the tea-cups, nodding her head and beating 
time very gravely. Lord Round towers, by her side, 
nodded his head too, for awhile, and then fell asleep. 
I should have done the same but for the manager, 
whose actions were worthy of remark. He sung with 
all the three singers, and a great deal louder than any 
of them ; he drank brandy and water, and offered his 
glass to Mrs. Crump (who gave him a nod, and took 
some, too) ; he shouted bravo ! or hissed as he thought 
proper; he criticised all the points of Mrs. Walker's per- 
son. " Shell do, Crump, she'll do — a splendid arm — 
you'll see her eyes in the shilling gallery ! What sort 
of a foot has she ? She's five feet three, if she's an 
inch ! Bravo — slap up — capital — hurra !" and he con- 
cluded by saying, with the aid of the Ravenswing, he 
would put Ligonier's nose out of joint ! 

The enthusiasm of Mr. Slang almost reconciled 
Lady Thrum to the abruptness of his manners, and 
even caused Sir George to forget that his chorus had 
been interrupted by the obstreperous familiarity of the 
manager. 

a And what do you think, Mr. Bludyer," said the 
tailor, delighted that his protegee should be thus win- 
ning all hearts, " is n't Mrs. Walker a tip-top singer, 
ey, sir ?" 

" I think she's a very bad one, Mr. Woolsey !" said 
the illustrious author, wishing to abbreviate all commu- 
nications with a tailor to whom he owed forty pounds. 

" Then, sir," says Mr. Woolsey, fiercely, " I'll— I'll 
thank you to pay me my little bill !" 
9 



194 men's vvivks. 



It is true there was no connexion between Mrs. 
Walker's singing and Woolsey 's little bill ; that the 
" Then, sir," was perfectly illogical on "Woolsey's part, 
but it was a very happy hit for the future fortunes of 
Mrs. Walker. Who knows what would have come of 
her debut but for that "Then, sir," and whether a 
" smashing article from the Tomahawk might not have 
ruined her for ever ?" 

"Are you a relation of Mrs. Walker's," said Mr. 
Bludyer, in reply to the angry tailor. 

" What's that to you, whether I am or not ?" re- 
plied Woolsey, fiercely. " But I'm the friend of Mrs. 
Walker, sir ; proud am I to say so, sir ; and, as the poet 
says, sir, c a little learning's a dangerous thing,' sir ; and 
I think a man who don't pay his bills may keep his tongue 
quiet at least, sir, and not abuse a lady, sir, whom every- 
body else praises, sir. You shan't humbug me any more, 
sir ; you shall hear from my attorney to-morrow, so 
mark that !" 

" Hush, my dear Mr. Woolsey," cried the literary 
man, " don't make a noise, come into this window ; is 
Mrs. Walker really a friend of yours ?" 

" I've told you so, sir." 

" Well, in that case, I shall do my utmost to serve 
her ; and, look you, Woolsey, any article you choose to 
send about her to The Tomahawk I promise you I'll 
put in." 

" Will you, though ? then we'll say nothing about 
the little bill." 

" You may do on that point," answered Bludyer, 
haughtily, "exactly as you please. I am not to be 
frightened from my duty, mind that ; and mind, too, 



THE RAVENSWINGL 195 



that I can write a slashing article better than any man 
in England : I could crush her by ten lines." 

The tables were now turned, and it was Woolsey's 
turn to be alarmed. 

" Pooh, pooh ! I was angry, 1 ' said he, " because you 
abused Mrs. Walker, who's an angel on earth ; but I'm 
very willing to apologize. I say — come — let me take 
your measure for some new clothes, eh ! Mr. B. V 

" I'll come to your shop," answered the literary 
man, quite appeased. " Silence ! they're beginning an- 
other song." 

The songs, which I don't attempt to describe (and, 
upon my word and honour, as far as 1 can understand 
matters, I believe, to this day, that Mrs. "Walker was 
only an ordinary singer), the songs lasted a great deal 
longer than I liked, but I was nailed, as it were, to the 
spot, having agreed to sup at Knightsbridge barracks 
with Fitz-Urse, whose carriage was ordered at eleven 
o'clock. 

" My dear Mr. Fitz-Boodle," said our old host to me, 
"you can do me the greatest service in the world." 

" Speak, sir !" said I. 

" Will you ask your honourable and gallant friend, 
the captain, to drive home Mr. Squinny to Brompton ?" 

" Can't Mr. Squinny get a cab V Sir George looked 
particularly arch. 

" Generalship, my dear young friend, — a little harm- 
less generalship. Mr. Squinny will not give much for 
my opinion of my pupil, but he will value very highly 
the opinion of the Honourable Mr. Fitz-Urse." 

For a moral man, was not the little knight a clever 
fellow ? He had bought Mr. Squinny for a dinner worth 



196 men's wives. 



ten shillings, and for a ride in a carriage with a lord's 
son. Squinny was carried to Brompton, and set down 
at his aunt's door, delighted with his new friends, and 
exceedingly sick with a cigar they had made him smoke. 



CHAPTER VIIL 

IN WHICH MR. WALKER SHOWS GREAT PRUDENCE AND 
FORBEARANCE. 

The describing of all these persons does not advance 
Morgiana's story much. But, perhaps, some countiy 
readers are not acquainted with the class of persons by 
whose printed opinions they are guided, and are simple 
enough to imagine that mere merit will make a reputa- 
tion on the stage or elsewhere. The making of a the- 
atrical success is a much more complicated and curious 
thing than such persons fancy it to be. Immense are 
the pains taken to get a good word from Mr. This of the 
Star, or Mr. That of the Courier, to propitiate the 
favour of the critic of the day, and get the editors of the 
metropolis into a good humour, — above all, to have the 
name of the party to be puffed perpetually before the 
public. Artists cannot be advertised like Macassar oil 
or blacking, and they want it to the full as much ; 
hence endless ingenuity must be practised in order to 
keep the popular attention awake. Suppose a great 
actor moves from London to Windsor, the Brentford 
Champion must state, " That yesterday Mr. Blazes and 
suite passed rapidly through our city ; the celebrated 



THE IIAVENSWING. 197 

comedian is engaged, we hear, at Windsor, to give some 
of bis inimitable readings of our great national bard to 
the most illustrious audience in tbe realm." This piece 
of intelligence the Hammersmith Observer will question 
the next week, as thus: — U A contemporary, the Brent- 
ford Champion, says that Blazes is engaged to give 
Shaksperean readings, at Windsor, to 'the most illus- 
trious audience in the realm/ We question this fact 
very much. We would, indeed, that it were true ; but 
the most illustrious audience in the realm prefers foreign 
melodies to the native wood-notes wild of the sweet 
song-bird of Avon. Mr. Blazes is simply gone to Eton, 
where his son, Master Massinger Blazes, is suffering, we 
regret to hear, under a severe attack of the chicken-pox. 
This complaint (incident to youth) has raged, we under- 
stand, with frightful virulence in Eton School." 

And if, after the above paragraphs, some London 
paper chooses to attack the folly of the provincial press, 
which talks of Mr. Blazes, and chronicles his move- 
ments, as if he were a crowned head, what harm is 
done ? Blazes can write in his own name to the London 
journal, and say that it is not his fault if provincial jour- 
nals choose to chronicle his movements, and that he was 
far from wishing that the afflictions of those who are 
dear to him should form the subject of public comment, 
and be held up to public ridicule. " We had no inten- 
tion of hurting the feelings of an estimable public ser- 
vant," writes the editor ; " and our remarks on the 
chicken-pox were general, not personal. We sincerely 
trust that Master Massinger Blazes has recovered from 
that complaint, and that he may pass through the mea- 
sles, the hooping-cough, the fourth form, and all other 



198 



MEN'S WIVES. 



diseases to which youth is subject, with comfort to him- 
self, and credit to his parents and teachers." At his 
next appearance on the stage after this controversy, a 
British public calls for Blazes three times after the play, 
and somehow there is sure to be some one with a 
laurel- wreath in a stage-box, who flings that chaplet at 
the inspired artist's feet. 

I don't know how it was, but before the debut of 
Morgiana the English press began to heave and throb 
in a convulsive manner, as if indicative of the near birth 
of some great thing. For instance, you read in one 
paper, — 

" Anecdote of Karl Maria Von Weber. — When the author 
of Oberon was in England, he was invited by a noble duke to 
dinner, and some of the most celebrated of our artists were as- 
sembled to meet him. The signal being given to descend to the 
salle- a-7nanger, the German composer was invited by his noble 
host (a bachelor) to lead the way. ' Is it not the fashion in your 
country,' said he, simply, ' for the man of the first eminence to 
take the first place ? Here is one whose genius entitles him to 
be first any where' And, so saying, he pointed to our admirable 
English composer, Sir George Thrum. The two musicians were 
friends to the last, and Sir George has still the identical piece of 
rosin which the author of the Freischutz gave him." — The Moon 
(morning paper), 2d June. 

" George III. a Composer. — Sir George Thrum has in his pos- 
session the score of an air, the words from Samson Agoniste*. 
an autograph of the late revered monarch. We hear that that 
excellent composer has in store for us not only an opera, but a 
pupil, with whose transcendant merits the elite of our aristocracy 
are already familiar." — Ibid, June 5. 

' ; Music with a Vengeance. — The march to the sound of 
which the 49th and 75th regiments rushed up the breach of 
Badajoz was the celebrated air from Britons Alarmed ; or, the 



THJi RAVENS WING. 199 

Siege of Bergen-op-Zoom, by our famous English composer, Sir 
George Thrum. Marshal Davoust said that the French line 
never stood when that air was performed to the charge of the 
bayonet. We hear the veteran musician has an opera now 
about to appear, and have no doubt that Old England will now, 
as then, show its superiority over all foreign opponents." — 
Albion. 

"We have been accused of preferring the produit of the 
etranger to the talent of our own native shores ; — but those who 
speak so little know us. We are fanatici par la musica wher- 
ever it be, and welcome merit dans chaque pays du monde* 
What do we say ? La merite n'a point de pays, as Napoleon 
said ; and Sir George Thrum (Chevalier de l'ordre de TElephant 
et Chateau, de Panama) is a maestro, whose fame appartient a 
VEurope. 

" We have just heard the lovely eleve, whose rare qualities 
the cavaliere has brought to perfection, — we have heard The 
Ravenswing (pourquoi cacher un nom que demain un monde va 
saluer), and a creature more beautiful and gifted never bloomed 
before dans nos climats. She sung the delicious duet of the 
1 Nabucodonosore,' with Count Pizzicato, with a bellezza, a gran- 
dezza, sl raggio, that excited in the bosom of the audience a 
corresponding furore: her scherzando was exquisite, though we 
confess we thought the concluding fioritura in the passage in y 
flat a leetle, a very leetle sporzata. Surely the words, 

1 Giorno d'errore 
Delire dolore, 
Nabueodonosore,' 

should be given andante, and not con strepito : but this is a 
faute bien legere in the midst of such unrivalled excellence, and 
only mentioned here that we may have something to criticise. 

"We hear that the enterprising impresario of one of the 
royal theatres has made an engagement, with the Diva ; and, if 
we have a regret, it is that she should be compelled to sing in 
the unfortunate language of our rude northern clime, which does 
not preier itself near so well to the bocca of the eantatrice as do 



200 men's wives. 



the mellifluous accents of the Lingua Toscana, the langue par 
excellence of song. 

" The Ravenswing's voice is a magnificent contra-basso of 
nine octaves," &c. — -Flowers of Fashion, June 10. 

" Old Thrum, the composer, is bringing out an opera and a 
pupil. The opera is good, the pupil first-rate. The opera will 
do much more than compete with the infernal twaddle and dis- 
gusting slip-slop of Donizetti, and the milk-and-water fools who 
imitate him : it will (and we ask the readers of The Tomahawk, 
were we ever mistaken?) surpass all these; it is good, of 
downright English stuff. The airs are fresh and pleasing, the 
choruses large and noble, the instrumentation solid and rich, the 
music is carefully written. We wish old Thrum and his opera 
welL 

" His pupil is a sure card, a splendid woman, and a splen- 
did singer. She is so handsome that she might sing as much, 
out of tune as Miss Ligonier, and the public would forgive her ; 
and sings so well, that were she as ugly as the aforesaid Ligo- 
nier, the audience would listen to her. The Ravenswing, that 
is her fantastical theatrical name (her real name is the same 
with that of a notorious scoundrel in the Fleet, who invented 
the Panama swindle, the Pontine marshes' swindle, the soap 
swindle — how are you off for soap now, Mr. W-lk-r ?) the Ra- 
venswing, we say, will do. Slang has engaged her at thirty 
guineas per week, and she appears next month in Thrum's 
opera, of which the words are written by a great ass with some 
talent, we mean Mr. Mulligan. 

" There is a foreign fool in the Flowers of Fashion who is 
doing his best to disgust the public by his filthy flattery. It is 
enough to make one sick. "Why is the foreign beast not kicked 
out of the paper ?" — The Tomahawk, June 17. 

The three first " anecdotes " were supplied by Mul- 
ligan to bis paper, with many others which need not 
here be repeated ; he kept them up with amazing 
energy and variety. Anecdotes of Sir George Thrum 
met you unexpectedly in queer corners of country pa- 



THE RAVEN SWING. 201 

pers ; puffs of the English school of music appeared 
perpetually in " notices to correspondents " in the Sun- 
day prints, some of which Mr. Slang commanded, and 
in others over which the indefatigable Mulligan had a 
control. This youth was the soul of the little con- 
spiracy for raising Morgiana into fame ; and humble as 
lie is, and great and respectable as is Sir George Thrum, 
it is my belief that the Ravenswing would never have 
been the Ravenswing she is but for the ingenuity and 
energy of the honest Hibernian reporter. 

It is only the business of the great man who writes 
the leading articles which appear in the large type of 
the daily papers to compose those astonishing pieces of 
eloquence ; the other parts of the paper are left to the 
ingenuity of the sub-editor, whose duty it is to select 
paragraphs, reject or receive horrid accidents, police re- 
ports, &c. ; with which, occupied as he is in the exer- 
cise of his tremendous functions, the editor himself 
cannot be expected to meddle. The fate of Europe is 
his province, the rise and fall of empires, and the great 
questions of state, demand the editor's attention : the 
humble puff, the paragraph about the last murder, or 
the state of the crops, or the sewers in Chancery Lane, 
is confided to the care of the sub ; and it is curious to 
see what a prodigious number of Irishmen exist among 
the sub-editors of London. When the liberator enu- 
merates the services of his countrymen, how the battle 
of Fontenoy was won by the Irish brigade, how the 
battle of Waterloo would have been lost but for the 
Irish regiments, and enumerates other acts for which 
we are indebted to Milesian heroism and genius, — he 

9* 



202 men's wives. 



ought at least to mention the Irish brigade of the press, 
and the amazing services they do to this country. 

The truth is, the Irish reporters and soldiers appear 
to do their duty right well ; and my friend Mr. Mulli- 
gan is one of the former. Having the interests of his 
opera and the Ravenswing strongly at heart, and being 
amongst his brethren an exceedingly popular fellow, he 
managed matters so that never a day passed but some 
paragraph appeared somewhere regarding the new 
singer, in whom, for their countryman's sake, all his 
brothers and sub-editors felt an interest. 

These puffs, destined to make known to all the 
world the merits of the Ravenswing, of course had an 
effect upon a gentleman very closely connected with 
that lady, the respectable prisoner in the Fleet, Captain 
Walker. As long as he received his weekly two 
guineas from Mr. Woolsey, and the occasional half- 
crowns which his wife could spare in her almost daily 
visits to him, he had never troubled himself to inquire 
what her pursuits were, and had allowed her (though 
the worthy woman longed with all her might to betray 
herself) to keep her secret. He was far from thinking, 
indeed, that his wife would prove such a treasure to 
him. 

But when the voice of fame and the columns of the 
public journals brought him each day some new story 
regarding the merits, genius, and beauty, of the Ravens- 
wing ; when rumours reached him that she was the 
favourite pupil of Sir George Thrum ; when she brought, 
him five guineas after singing at the Philharmonic 
(other five the good soul had spent in purchasing some 
smart new cockades, hats, cloaks, and laces, for her 



THE RAVEN SWING. 203 

little son) ; when, finally, it was said that Slang, the 
great manager, offered her an engagement at thirty- 
guineas per week, Mr. Walker became exceedingly in- 
terested in his wife's proceedings, of which he demanded 
from her the fullest explanation. 

Using his marital authority, he absolutely forbade 
Mrs. Walker's appearance on the public stage : he wrote 
to Sir George Thrum a letter expressive of his high- 
est indignation that negotiations so important should 
ever have been commenced without his authorization ; 
and he wrote to his dear Slang (for these gentlemen 
were very intimate, and in the course of his transac- 
tions as an agent Mr. W. had had many dealings with 
Mr. S.) asking his dear Slang whether the latter thought 
his friend Walker would be so green as to allow his 
wife to appear on the stage, and he remain in prison 
with all his debts on his head ? 

And it was a curious thing now to behold how 
eager those very creditors who but yesterday (and with 
perfect correctness) had denounced Mr. Walker as a 
swindler ; who had refused to come to any composition 
with him, and had sworn never to release him ; how 
they on a sudden became quite eager to come to an 
arrangement with him, and offered, nay, begged and 
prayed him, to go free, — only giving them his own and 
Mrs. Walker's acknowledgment of their debt, with a 
promise that a part of the lady's salary should be de- 
voted to the payment of the claim. 

" The lady's salary !" said Mr. Walker, indignantly, 
to these gentlemen and their attorneys. "Do you 
suppose I will allow Mrs. Walker to go on the stage ? — 
do you suppose I am such a fool as to sign bills to the 



204 men's wives. 



full amount of these claims against me, when in a few 
months more I can walk out of prison without paying 
a shilling? Gentlemen, you take Howard Walker for 
an idiot. I like the Fleet, and rather than pay I'll stay 
here for these ten years." 

In other words, it was the captain's determination 
to make some advantageous bargain for himself with 
his creditors and the gentlemen who were interested in 
bringing forward Mrs. Walker on the stage. And who 
can say that in so determining he did not act witli 
laudable prudence and justice ? 

" You do not, surely, consider, my very dear sir, 
that half the amount of Mrs. Walker's salaries is too 
much for my immense trouble and pains in teaching 
her ?" cried Sir George Thrum (who, in reply to Walk- 
er's note, thought it most prudent to wait personally 
on that gentleman). " Eemember that I am the first 
master in England ; that I have the best interest in 
England ; that I can bring her out at the Palace, and 
at every concert and musical festival in England ; that 
I am obliged to teach her every single note that she 
utters ; and that without me she could no more sing a 
song than her little baby could walk without its nurse." 

"I believe about half what you say," said Mr. 
Walker. 

" My dear Captain Walker ! would you question 
my integrity % Who was it that made Mrs. Milling- 
ton's fortune, — the celebrated Mrs. Millington, who has 
now got a hundred thousand pounds ? Who was it 
that brought out the finest tenor in Europe, Poppleton ? 
Ask the Musical World, ask those great artists them- 
selves, and they will tell you they owe their reputation, 
their fortune, to Sir George Thrum." 



THE RAVEN SWING. 205 

" It is very likely," replied the captain, coolly. 
" You are a good master, I dare say, Sir George ; but 
I am not going to article Mrs. Walker to you for three 
years, and sign her articles in the Fleet. Mrs. Walker 
shan't sing till I'm a free man, that's flat ; if I stay here 
till you're dead she shan't." 

" Gracious powers, sir !" exclaimed Sir George, " do 
you expect me to pay your debts ?" 

" Yes, old boy," answered the captain, " and to give 
me something handsome in hand, too ; and that's my 
ultimatum : and so I wish you good morning, for I'm 
engaged to play a match at tennis below." 

This little interview exceedingly frightened the 
worthy knight, who went home to his lady in a deliri- 
ous state of alarm occasioned by the audacity of Captain 
Walker. 

Mr. Slang's interview with him was scarcely more 
satisfactory. He owed, he said, four thousand pounds. 
His creditors might be brought to compound for five 
shillings in the pound. He would not consent to allow 
his wife to make a single engagement until the creditors 
were satisfied, and until he had a handsome sum in 
hand to begin the world with. " Unless my wife comes 
out, you'll be in the Gazette yourself, you know you 
will. So you may take her or leave her, as you think 
fit." 

" Let her sing one night as a trial," said Mr. Slang. 

" If she sings one night, the creditors will want their 
money in full," replied the captain. " I shan't let her 
labour, poor thing, for the profit of those scoundrels !" 
added the prisoner, with much feeling. And Slang left 
him with a much greater respect for Walker than ho 



206 

had ever before possessed. He was struck with the 
gallantry of the man who could triumph over misfor- 
tunes, nay, make misfortune itself an engine of good 
luck. 

Mrs. Walker was instructed instantly to have a 
severe sore throat. The journals in Mr. Slang's interest 
deplored this illness pathetically ; while the papers in 
the interest of the opposition theatre magnified it with 
great malice. " The new singer," said one, " the great 
wonder which Slang promised us, is as hoarse as a 
raven!" "Dr. Thorax pronounces," wrote another 
paper, " that the quinsy, which has suddenly prostrated 
Mrs. Ravenswing, whose singing at the Philharmonic, 

previous to her appearance at the T. R , excited so 

much applause, has destroyed the lady's voice for ever. 
We luckily need no other prima donna, when that place, 
as nightly thousands acknowledge, is held by Miss 
Ligonier." The Looker-on said, " That although some 
well-informed contemporaries had declared Mrs. W. 
Ravenswing's complaint to be a quinsy, others, on whose 
authority they could equally rely, had pronounced it to 
be a consumption. At all events, she was in an ex- 
ceedingly dangerous state, from which, though we do 
not expect, we heartily trust she may recover. Opinions 
differ as to the merits of this lady, some saying that she 
was altogether inferior to Miss Ligonier, while other 
connoisseurs declare the latter lady to be by no means 
so accomplished a person. This point, we fear," con- 
tinued the Looker-on, " can never now be settled, unless, 
which we fear is improbable, Mrs. Ravenswing should 
ever so far recover as to be able to make her debut ; 
and even then, the new singer will not have a fair 



THE RAVENSWING. 207 

chance unless her voice and strength shall be fully re- 
stored. This information, which we have from exclusive 
resources, may be relied on," concluded the Looker-on, 
" as authentic.'" 

It was Mr. Walker himself, that artful and audacious 
Fleet prisoner, who concocted those very paragraphs 
against his wife's health which appeared in the journals 
of the Ligonier party. The partisans of that lady were 
delighted, the creditors of Mr. Walker astounded, at 
reading them. Even Sir George Thrum was taken in, 
and came to the Fleet prison in considerable alarm. 

" Mum's the word, my good sir !" said Mr. Walker. 
u Now is the time to make arrangements with the cre- 
ditors." 

Well, these arrangements were finally made. It 
does not matter how many shillings in the pound satis- 
fied the rapacious creditors of Morgiana's husband. But 
it is certain that her voice returned to her all of a sud- 
den upon the captain's release. The papers of the Mul- 
ligan faction again trumpeted her perfections ; the agree- 
ment with Mr. Slang was concluded ; that with Sir 
George Thrum the great composer satisfactorily ar- 
ranged ; and the new opera underlined in immense 
capitals in the bills, and put in rehearsal with immense 
expenditure on the part of the scene-painter and 
costumier. 

Need we tell with w T hat triumphant success the 
Brigand's Bride was received ? All the Irish sub-edit- 
ors the next morning took care to have such an account 
of it as made Miss Ligonier and Baroski die with envy. 
All the reporters who could spare time were in the 



208 men's wives. 



boxes to support their friend's work. All the journey- 
men tailors of the establishment of Lindsey, Woolsey, 
and Co., had pit tickets given to them, and applauded 
with all their might. All Mr. Walker's friends of the 
Eegent Club lined the side-boxes with white kid gloves ; 
and in a little box by themselves sat Mrs. Crump and 
Mr. Woolsey, a great deal too much agitated to applaud 
— so agitated, that Woolsey even forgot to fling down 
the bouquet he had brought for the Ravenswing. 

But there was no lack of those horticultural orna- 
ments. The theatre servants wheeled away a wheel- 
barrow full (which were flung on the stage the next 
night over again) ; and Morgiana blushing, panting, 
weeping, was led off by Mr. Poppleton, the eminent 
tenor, who had crowned her with one of the most con- 
spicuous of the chaplets. 

Here she flew to her husband, and flung her arms 
round his neck. He was flirting behind the side-scenes 
with Mademoiselle Flicflac, who had been dancing in 
the divertissement ; and was probably the only man in 
the theatre of those who witnessed the embrace that did 
not care for it. Even Slang was affected, and said with 
perfect sincerity that he wished he had been in Walker's 
place. The manager's fortune was made, at least for 
the season. He acknowledged so much to Walker, 
who took a week's salary for his wife in advance that 
very night. 

There was, as usual, a grand supper in the green- 
room. The terrible Mr. Bludyer appeared in a new coat 
of the well-known Woolsey cut, and the little tailor 
himself and Mrs. Crump were not the least happy of the 
party. But when the Ravenswing took Woolsey's hand, 



THE RAVENSWING. 209 

and said she never would Lave been there but for him, 
Mr. Walker looked very grave, and hinted to her that 
she must not, in her position, encourage the attentions 
of persons in that rank of life. " I shall pay," said he, 
proudly, " every farthing that is owing to Mr. Woolsey, 
and shall employ him for the future. But you under- 
stand, my love, that one cannot at one's own table 
receive one's own tailor." 

Slang proposed Morgiana's health in a tremendous 
speech, which elicited cheers, and laughter, and sobs, 
such as only managers have the art of drawing from 
the theatrical gentlemen and ladies in their employ. It 
was observed, especially among the chorus-singers at the 
bottom of the table, that their emotion was intense. 
They had a meeting the next day and voted a piece of 
plate to Adolphus Slang, Esq., for his eminent services 
in the cause of the drama. 

Walker returned thanks for his lady. That was, he 
said, the proudest moment of his life. He was proud to 
think that he had educated her for the stage, happy to 
think that his sufferings had not been vain, and that his 
exertions in her behalf were crowned with full success. 
In her name and his own he thanked the company, and 
sat down, and was once more particularly attentive to 
Mademoiselle Flicflac. 

Then came an oration from Sir George Thrum, in 
reply to Slang's toast to him. It was very much to the 
same effect as the speech by Walker, the two gentle- 
men attributing to themselves individually the merit of 
bringing out Mrs. Walker. He concluded by stating 
that he should always hold Mrs. Walker as the daughter 
of his heart, and to the last moment of his life should 



210 men's wives. 



love and cherish her. It is certain that Sir George was 
exceedingly elated that night, and would have been 
scolded by his lady on his return home but for the 
triumph of the evening. 

Mulligan's speech of thanks, as author of the Bri- 
gand's Bride, was, it must be confessed, extremely 
tedious. It seemed there would be no end to it ; when 
he got upon the subject of Ireland especially, which 
somehow was found to be intimately connected with the 
interests of music and the theatre. Even the choristers 
pooh-poohed this speech, coming though it did from the 
successful author, whose songs of wine, love, and battle, 
they had been repeating that night. 

The Brigand's Bride ran for many nights. Its 
choruses were tuned on the organs of the day. Morgi- 
ana's airs " the Rose upon my balcony" and " the Light- 
ning on the Cataract" (recitative and scena) were on 
every body's lips, and brought so many guineas to Sir. 
George Thrum that he was encouraged to have his 
portrait engraved, which still may be seen in the music- 
shops. Not many persons, I believe, bought proof im- 
pressions of the plate, price two guineas ; whereas, on 
the contrary, all the young clerks in banks, and all the 
fast young men of the universities, had pictures of the 
Ravenswing in their apartments — as Biondetta (the 
brigand's bride), as Zelyma (in the Nuptials of Benares), 
as Barbareska (in the Mine of Tobolsk), and in all her 
famous characters. In the latter she disguises herself as 
an uhlan, in order to save her father, who is in prison ; 
and the Ravenswing looked so fascinating in this costume 
in pantaloons and yellow boots, that Slang was for 
having her instantly in Captain Macheath, whence arose 
their quarrel. 



THE RAVENSWING. 211 

She was replaced at Slang's theatre by Snooks, the 
rhinoceros- tamer, with his breed of wild buffaloes. 
Their success was immense. Slang gave a supper, at 
which all the company burst into tears, and assembling 
in the green-room next day, they, as usual, voted a 
piece of plate to Adolphus Slang, Esq., for his eminent 
services to the drama. 

In the Captain Macheath dispute Mr. Walker would 
have had his wife yield ; but on this point, and for once, 
she disobeyed her husband and left the theatre. And 
when Walker cursed her (according to his wont) for 
her • abominable selfishness and disregard of his pro- 
perty, she burst into tears and said she had spent but 
twenty guineas on herself and baby during the year, 
that her theatrical dressmaker's bills were yet unpaid, 
and that she had never asked him how much he spent 
on that odious French figurante. 

All this was true, except about the French figurante. 
Walker, as the lord and master, received all Morgiana's 
earnings, and spent them as a gentleman should. He 
gave very neat dinners at a cottage in the Regent's 
Park (Mr. and Mrs. Walker lived in Green Street, 
Grosvenor Square), he played a good deal at the Re- 
gent ; but for the French figurante, it must be con- 
fessed, that Mrs. Walker was in a sad error ; that lady 
and the captain had parted long ago ; it was Madame 
Dolores de Tras-os-Montes who inhabited the cottao-e in 
St. John's Wood now. 

But if some little errors of this kind might be attribu- 
table to the captain, on the other hand, when his wife was 
in the provinces, he was the most attentive of husbands ', 
made all her bargains, and received every shilling before 



212 

he would permit her to sing a note. Thus he prevented 
her from being cheated, as a person of her easy temper 
doubtless would have been, by designing managers and 
needy concert-givers. They always travelled with four 
horses ; and Walker was adored in every one of the 
principal hotels in England. The waiters flew at his 
bell. The chambermaids were afraid he was a sad 
naughty man, and thought his wife no such great 
beauty ; the landlords preferred him to any duke. He 
never looked at their bills, not he ! In fact his income 
was at least four thousand a-year for some years of his 
life. 

Master Woolsey Walker was put to Dr. Wapshot's 
seminary, whence after many disputes on the doctor's 
part as to getting his half-year's accounts paid, and 
after much complaint of ill-treatment on the little boy's 
side, he was withdrawn, and placed under the care of 
the Rev. Mr. Swish tail, at Turnham Green ; where all 
his bills are paid by his godfather, now the head of the 
firm of Woolsey and Co. 

As a gentleman, Mr. Walker still declines to see 
him ; but he has not, as far I have heard, paid the 
sums of money which he threatened to refund ; and, as 
he is seldom at home, the worthy tailor can come to 
Green Street at his leisure ; and he and Mrs. Crump, 
and Mrs Walker, often take the omnibus to Brentford, 
and a cake with them to little Woolsey at school ; to 
whom the tailor says he will leave every shilling of his 
property. 

The Walkers have no other children ; but when 
she takes her airing in the Park she always turns away 
at the sight of a low phaeton, in which sits a woman 






THE RAVENSWING. 213 

with rouged cheeks, and a great number of over- dressed 
children with a French bonne, whose name, I am given 
to understand, is Madame Dolores de Tra-os-Montes. 
Madame de Tras-os-Montes always puts a great gold 
glass to her eye as the Ravens wing's carriage passes, 
and looks into it with a sneer. The two coachmen 
used always to exchange queer winks at each other in 
the ring, until Madame de Tras-os-Montes lately adopted 
a tremendous chasseur, with huge whiskers and a green 
and gold livery ; since which time the formerly named 
gentlemen do not recognise each other. 

The Ravenswing's life is one of perpetual triumph 
on the stage ; and, as every one of the fashionable men 
about town have been in love with her, you may fancy 
what a pretty character she has. Lady Thrum would 
die sooner than speak to that unhappy young woman ; 
and, in fact, the Thrums have a new pupil, who is a 
syren without the dangerous qualities of one, who has 
the person of a Yenus and the mind of a Muse, and 
who is coming out at one of the theatres immediately. 
Baroski says, " De liddle Rafenschwing is just as font of 
me as effer !" People are very shy about receiving her 
in society ; and when she goes to sing at a concert, 
Miss Prim starts up and skurries off in a state of the 
greatest alarm, lest " that person" should speak to her. 

Walker is voted a good, easy, rattling, gentlemanly 
fellow, and nobody's enemy but his own. His wife, 
they say, is dreadfully extravagant ; and, indeed, since 
Ins marriage, and, in spite of his wife's large income, he 
has been in the Bench several times, but she signs some 
bills and he comes out again, and is as gay and genial 
as ever. All mercantile speculations he has wisely long 



214 

since given up ; he likes to throw a main of an evening, 
as I have said, and to take his couple of bottles at din- 
ner. On Friday he attends at the theatre for his wife's 
salary, and transacts no other business during the week. 
He giows exceedingly stout, dyes his hair, and has a 
bloated purple look about the nose and cheeks, very 
different from that which first charmed the heart of 
Morgiana. 

By the way, Eglantine has been turned out of the 
Bower of Bloom, and now keeps a shop at Tunbridge 
Wells. Going down thither last year without a razor, 
I asked a fat, seedy man, lolling in a faded nankeen 
jacket at the door of a tawdry little shop in the Pan- 
tiles, to shave me. He said in reply, " Sir, I do not prac- 
tise in that branch of the profession !" and turned back 
into the little shop. It was Archibald Eglantine. 
But in the wreck of his fortunes, he still has his cap- 
tain's uniform, and his grand cross of the order of the 
Elephant and Castle of Panama. 



POSTSCRIPT. 

G. FITZ-BOODLE, ESQ. TO O. TORKE, ESQ. 

Zum Trierischen Hof, Goblenz, July 10, 1843. 

My Dear Yorke, — The story of the Ravenswing was writ- 
ten a long time since, and I never could account for the bad 
taste of the publishers of the metropolis who refused it an in- 
sertion in their various magazines. This fact would never 
have been attended to but for the following circumstance : — 

Only yesterday as I was dining at this excellent hotel, I re- 
marked a bald-headed gentleman in a blue coat and brass 
buttons, who looked like a colonel on half-pay, and by his side 
a lady and a little boy of twelve, whom the gentleman was 



THE RAVENSWING. 215 

cramming with an amazing quantity of cherries and cakes. A 
stout old dame in a wonderful cap and ribands was seated by 
the lady's side, and it was easy to see they were English, and 
I thought I had already made their acquaintance elsewhere. 

The younger of the ladies at last made a bow with an ac- 
companying blush. 

"Surely," said I, "I have the honour of speaking to Mrs. 
Ravenswing?" 

"Mrs. Woolsey, sir," said the gentleman; "my wife has 
long since left the stage :" and at this the old lady in the 
wonderful cap trod on my toes very severely, and nodded her 
head and all her ribands in a most mysterious way. Presently 
the two ladies rose and left the table, the elder declaring that 
she heard the baby crying. 

" Woolsey, my dear, go with your mamma," said Mr. Wool- 
sey, patting the boy on the head ; the young gentleman obeyed 
the command, carrying off a plate of macaroons with him. 

" Your son 18 a fine boy, sir," said I. 

" My step-son, sir," answered Mr. Woolsey ; and added in a 
louder voice, " I knew you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, at once, but did not 
mention your name for fear of agitating my wife. She don't 
like to have the memory of old times renewed, sir ; her former 
husband, whom you knew, Captain Walker, made her very un- 
happy. He died in America, sir, of this, I fear" (pointing to the 
bottle), " and Mrs. W. quitted the stage a year before I quitted 
business. Are you going on to Wiesbaden ?" 

They went off in their carriage that evening, the boy on the box 
making great efforts to blow out of the postilion's tasselled horn. 

I am glad that poor Morgiana is happy at last, and hasten to 
inform you of the fact : I am going to visit the old haunts of my 
youth at Pumpernichel. 

Adieu. Yours, G. F. B. 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 

There was an odious Irishwoman and her daughter 
who used to frequent the Royal Hotel at Leamington 
some years ago, and who went by the name of Mrs. 
Major Gam. Gam had been a distinguished officer in 
His Majesty's service, whom nothing but death and his 
own amiable wife could overcome. The widow mourned 
her husband in the most becoming bombazeen she 
could muster, and had at least half an inch of lamp- 
black round the immense visiting tickets which she left 
at the houses of the nobility and gentry her friends. 

Some of us, I am sorry to say, used to call her Mrs. 
Major Gammon ; for if the worthy widow had a pro- 
pensity, it was to talk largely of herself and family (of 
her own family, for she held her husband's very cheap), 
and of the wonders of her paternal mansion, Molloy- 
ville, County of Mayo. She was of the Molloys of that 
county ; and though I never heard of the family before, 
I have little doubt, from what Mrs. Major Gam stated, 
that they were the most ancient and illustrious family 
of that part of Ireland. I remember there came down 
to see his aunt a } 7 oung fellow with huge red whiskers 
and tight nankeens, a green coat and an awful breast- 
pin, who, after two days' stay at the Spa, proposed mar- 
riage to Miss S , or, in default, a duel with her 



DENNIS HAGGARTY^S WIFE. 217 

father ; and who drove a Hash curricle with a bay and 
a gray, and who was presented with much pride by 
Mrs. Gam as Castlereagh Molloy of Molloyville. We 
all agreed that he was the most insufferable snob of the 
whole season, and were delighted when a bailiff came 
down in search of him. 

Well, this is all I know personally of the Molloy- 
ville family ; but at the house if you met the widow 
Gam, and talked on any subject in life, you were sure to 
hear of it. If you asked her to have peas at dinner, 
she would say, " Oh, sir, after the peas at Molloyville, I 
really don't care for any others, — do I, dearest Jemima ? 
We always had a dish in the month of June, when my 
father gave his head gardener a guinea (we had three 
at Molloyville), and sent him with his compliments and 
a quart of peas to our neighbour dear Lord Marrowfat. 
What a sweet place Marrowfat Park is ! isn't it, Jemi- 
ma ?" If a carriage passed by the window, Mrs. Major 
Gammon would be sure to tell you that there were 
three carriages at Molloyville, " the barouche, the chaw- 
iot, and the covered cyar." In the same manner she 
would favour you with the number and names of the 
footmen of the establishment ; and on a visit to War- 
wick Castle (for this bustling woman made one in every 
party of pleasure that was formed from the hotel), she 
gave us to understand that the great walk by the river 
was altogether inferior to the principal avenue of Mol- 
loyville Park. I should not have been able to tell so 
much about Mrs. Gam and her daughter, but that, be- 
tween ourselves, I was particularly sweet upon a young 
lady at the time, whose papa lived at the royal, and was 
under the care of Dr. Jephson. 
10 



218 men's wives. 



The Jemima appealed to by Mrs. Gam in the above 
sentence was, of course, her daughter, apostrophized by 
her mother, u Jemima, my soul's darling !" or, " Jemi- 
ma, my blessed child !" or, " Jemima, my own love !" 
The sacrifices that Mrs. Gam had made for that daugh- 
ter were, she said, astonishing. The money she had 
spent in masters upon her, the illnesses through which 
she had nursed her, the ineffable love the mother bore 
her, were only known to Heaven, Mrs. Gam said. They 
used to come into the room with their arms round each 
other's waists ; * at dinner between the courses the 
mother would sit with one hand locked in her daugh- 
ter's ; and if only two or three young men were present 
at the time, would be pretty sure to kiss her Jemima 
more than once during the time the bohea was being 
poured out. 

As for Miss Gam, if she was not handsome, candour 
forbids me to say she was ugly. She was neither one 
nor t'other. She was a person who wore ringlets and 
a band round her forehead ; she knew four songs, which 
became rather tedious at the end of a couple of months' 
acquaintance ; she had excessively bare shoulders ; she 
inclined to wear numbers of cheap ornaments, rings, 
brooches, ferronieres, smelling-bottles, and was always, 
we thought, very smartly dressed, though old Mrs. Lynx 
hinted that her gowns and her mother's were turned 
over and over again, and that her eyes were almost put 
out by darning stockings. 

These eyes Miss Gam had very large, though rather 
red and weak, and used to roll them about at every 
eligible unmarried man in the place. But though the 
widow subscribed to all the balls, though she hired a 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 219 

fly to go to the meet of the hounds, though she was 
constant at church, and Jemima sang louder than any 
person there except the clerk, and though, probably, 
any person who made her a happy husband would be 
invited down to enjoy the three footmen, gardeners, 
and carriages at Molloyville, yet no English gentleman 
was found sufficiently audacious to propose. Old Lynx 
used to say that the pair had been at Tunbridge, Har- 
rogate, Brighton, Ramsgate, Cheltenham, for this eight 
years past, where they had met, it seemed, with no bet- 
ter fortune. Indeed, the widow looked rather high for 
her blessed child ; and as she looked with the contempt 
which no small number of Irish people feel upon all 
persons who get their bread by labour or commerce ; 
and as she was a person whose energetic manners, cos- 
tume, and brogue, were not much to the taste of quiet 
English country gentlemen, Jemima, — sweet, spotless 
flower, — still remained on her hands, a thought with- 
ered, perhaps, and seedy. 

Now, at this time, the 120th regiment was quartered 
at Weedon Barracks, and with the corps was a certain 
Assistant- Surgeon Haggarty, a large, lean, tough, raw- 
boned man, with big hands, knock-knees, and carroty 
whiskers, and, withal, as honest a creature as ever han- 
dled a lancet. Haggarty, as his name imports, was of 
the very same nation as Mrs. Gam, and, what is more, 
the honest fellow had some of the peculiarities which 
belonged to the widow, and bragged about his family 
almost as much as she did. I do not know of what 
particular part of Ireland they were kings, but mon- 
archs they must have been, as have been the ancestors 
of so many thousand Hibernian families ; but they had 



220 men's wives. 



been men of no small consideration in Dublin, " Where 
my father," Haggarty said, " is as well known as King 
William's statue, and where he 'rowls his carriage, too,' 
let me tell ye." 

Hence Haggarty was called by the wags " Rowl 
the carriage," and several of them made inquiries of 
Mrs. Gam regarding him : " Mrs. Gam, when you used 
to go up from Molloyville to the lord lieutenant's balls, 
and had your town-house in Fitzwilliam Square, used 
you to meet the famous Doctor Haggarty in society ?" 

" Is it Surgeon Haggarty of Gloucester Street, ye 
mean ? The black Papist ! D'ye suppose that the 
Molloys would sit down to table with a creature of that 
sort ?" 

" Why, isn't he the most famous physician in Dub- 
lin, and doesn't he rowl his carriage there ?" 

" The horrid wretch ! He keeps a shop, I tell ye, 
and sends his sons out with the medicine. He's got 
four of them off into the army, Ulick and Phil, and 
Terence and Denny, and now it's Charles that takes out 
the physic. But how should I know about these odious 
creatures ? Their mother was a Burke, of Burke's 
Town, County Cavan, and brought Surgeon Haggarty 
two thousand pounds. She was a Protestant ; and I 
am surprised how she could have taken up with a hor- 
rid, odious, Popish apothecary !" 

From the extent of the widow's information, I am 
led to suppose that the inhabitants of Dublin are not 
less anxious about their neighbors than are the natives of 
English cities ; and I think it is very probable that Mrs. 
Gam's account of the young Haggartys who carried 
out the medicine is perfectly correct, for a lad in the 



DENNIS HAGGARTy's WIFE. 221 

120th made a caricature of Haggarty coming out of a 
chemist's shop with an oil-cloth basket under his arm, 
which set the worthy surgeon in such a fury that there 
would have been a duel between him and the ensign, 
could the fiery doctor have had his way. 

Now, Dionysius Haggarty was of an exceedingly in- 
flammable temperament, and it chanced that of all the 
invalids, the visitors, the young squires of Warwick- 
shire, the young manufacturers from Birmingham, the 
young officers from the barracks, it chanced, unluckily 
for Miss Gam and himself, that he was the only indi- 
vidual who was in the least smitten by her personal 
charms. He was very tender and modest about his 
love, however, for it must be owned that he respected 
Mrs. Gam hugely, and fully admitted, like a good sim- 
ple fellow as he was, the superiority of that lady's birth 
and breeding to his own. How could he hope that he, 
a humble assistant-surgeon, with a thousand pounds 
his aunt Kitty left him for all his fortune, — how could 
he hope that one of the race of Molloyville would ever 
condescend to marry him ? 

Inflamed, however, by love, and inspired by wine, 
one day at a picnic at Kenilworth, Haggarty, whose 
love and raptures were the talk of the whole regiment, 
was induced by his waggish comrades to make a pro- 
posal in form. 

" Are you aware, Mr. Haggarty, that you are speak- 
ing to a Molloy V was all the reply majestic Mrs. Gam 
made when, according to the usual formula, the flutter- 
ing Jemima referred her suitor to " mamma." She 
left him with a look which was meant to crush the poor 
fellow to earth, she gathered up her cloak and bonnet, 



222 men's wives. 



and precipitately called for her fly. She took care to 
tell every single sonl in Leamington that the son of the 
odious Papist apothecary had had the audacity to pro* 
pose for her daughter (indeed a proposal, coming from 
whatever quarter it may, does no harm), and left Hag- 
garty in a state of extreme depression and despair. 

His downheartedness, indeed, surprised most of his 
acquaintances in and out of the regiment, for the young 
young lady was no beauty and a doubtful fortune, and 
Dennis was a man outwardly of an unromantic turn, 
who seemed to have a great deal more liking for beef- 
steak and whisky-punch than for women, however fas- 
cinating. 

But there is no doubt this shy, uncouth, rough fel- 
low had a warmer and more faithful heart hid within 
him than many a dandy who is as handsome as Apollo. 
I, for my part, never can understand why a man falls 
in love, and heartily give him credit for so doing, never 
mind with what or whom. That I take to be a point 
quite as much beyond an individual's own control as 
the catching of the small-pox or the colour of his hair. 
To the surprise of all, Assistant-surgeon Dionysius Hag- 
garty was deeply and seriously in love ; and I am told 
had one day very nearly killed the before-mentioned 
young ensign with a carving-knife for venturing to 
make a second caricature, representing Lady Gammon 
and Jemima in a fantastical park, surrounded by three 
gardeners, three carriages, three footmen, and the cov- 
ered cyar. He would have no joking concerning them. 
He became moody and quarrelsome of habit. He was 
for some time much more in the surgery and hospital 
than in the mess. He gave up eating, for the most 



dennis hag g arty's wife. 223 

part, of those vast quantities of beef and pudding for 
which his stomach had used to afford such ample and 
swift accommodation ; and when the cloth was drawn, 
instead of taking twelve tumblers and singing Irish 
melodies as he used to do in a horrible cracked yelling 
voice, he would retire to his own apartment or gloomily 
pace the barrack-yard, or madly whip and spur a grey 
mare he had on the road to Leamington where his Je- 
mima (although invisible for him) still dwelt. 

The season at Leamington coming to a conclusion 
by the withdrawal of the young fellows who frequented 
that watering-place, the widow Gam retired to her usual 
quarters for the other months of the year. Where 
these quarters where I think we have no right to ask, 
for I believe she had quarrelled with her brother at 
Molloyville, and besides, was a great deal too proud to 
be a burden on any body. 

Not only did the widow quit Leamington, but very 
soon afterwards the 120th received its marching orders 
and left Weedon and Warwickshire. Haggarty's appe- 
tite was by this time partially restored, but his love was 
not altered and his humour was still morose and gloomy. 
I am informed that at this period of his life he wrote 
some poems relative to his unhappy passion, a wild set 
of verses of several lengths, and in his hand-writing, 
being discovered upon a sheet of paper in which a 
pitch-plaster was wrapt up, which Lieutenant and Adju- 
tant Wheezer was compelled to put on for a cold. 

Fancy then, three years afterwards, the surprise of 
all Haggarty's acquaintances on reading in the public 
papers the following announcement : — 



224 

"Marrried, at Monkstown on the 12th instant, Dionysius 
Haggarty, Esq., of H. M. 120th Foot, to Jemima Amelia Wil- 
helmina Molloy, daughter of the late Major Lancelot Gam, R. 
M., and grandaughter of the late, and niece of the present Burke 
Bodkin Blake Molloy, Esq., Mulloyville, County Mayo." 

Has the course of true love at last begun to run 
smooth ? thought I, as I laid down the paper ; and the 
old times, and the old leering, bragging widow, and 
the high shoulders of her daughter, and the jolly days 
with the 120th, and Doctor Jephson's one-horse chaise, 

and the Warwickshire hunt, and — and Louisa S ? 

but never mind her, came back to my mind : has that 
good-natured> simple fellow at last met with his reward ? 
Well, if he has not to marry the mother-in-law too, he 
he may get on well enough. 

Another year announced the retirement of Assistant- 
Surgeon Molloy from the 120th, where he was replaced 
by Assistant-Surgeon Angus Rothsay Leech, a Scotch- 
man probably, with whom I have not the least acquaint- 
ance, and who has nothing whatever to do with this 
little history. 

Still more years passed on, during which time I 
will not say that I kept a constant watch upon the for- 
tunes of Mr. Haggarty and his lady, for, perhaps, if the 
truth were known, I never thought for a moment about 
them ; until one day, being at Kingstown, near Dublin, 
dawdling on the beach and staring at the Hill of 
Howth, as most people at that watering-place do, I 
saw coming towards me a tall gaunt man, with a pair 
of bushy red whiskers, of which I thought I had seen 
the likes in former years, and a face which could be no 



dennis hag a arty's wife. 225 

other than Haggarty's. It was Haggarty, ten years 
older than when we last met, and greatly more grim 
and thin. He had on one shoulder a young gentle- 
man in a dirty tartan costume, and a face exceedingly 
like his own peeping from under a battered plume of 
black feathers, while with his other hand he was drag- 
ging a light green go-cart, in which reposed a female 
infant of some two years old. Both were roaring with 
great power of lungs. 

As soon as Dennis saw me his face lost the dull, 
puzzled expression which had seemed to characterize it, 
he dropped the pole of the go-cart from one hand and 
his son from the other, and came jumping forward to 
greet me with all his might, leaving his progeny roar- 
ing in the road. 

" Bless my sowl," says he, " sure it's Fitz-Boodle ? 
Fitz, don't you remember me ? Dennis Haggarty of 
the 120th ? Leamington, you know ? Molloy, my 
boy, hould your tongue, and stop your screeching, 
and Jemima's too ; d'ye hear ? Well, it does good to 
sore eyes to see an old face. How fat you're grown, 
Fitz ; and were ye ever in Ireland before ? and an't ye 
delighted with it ? Confess, now, isn't it beautiful V 

This question regarding the merits of their country, 
which I have remarked is put by most Irish persons, 
being answered in a satisfactory manner, and the shouts 
of the infants appeased from an apple-stall hard-by, 
Dennis and I talked of old times, and I congratulated 
him on his marriage with the lovely girl whom we all 
admired, and hoped he had a fortune with her, and so 
forth. His appearance, however, did not bespeak a 
great fortune ; he had an old grey hat, short old trou- 
10* 



226 men's wives. 



sers, an old waistcoat with regimental buttons, and 
patched Blucher boots, such as are not usually sported 
by persons in easy life. 

" Ah !" says he, with a sigh, in reply to my queries, 
" times are changed since them days, Fitz-Boodle. My 
wife's not what she was — the beautiful creature you 
knew her. Molloy, my boy, run off in a hurry to your 
mamma and tell her an English gentleman is coming 
home to dine, for you'll dine with me, Fitz, in course ?" 
And I agreed to partake of that meal, though Master 
Molloy altogether declined to obey his papa's orders with 
respect to announcing the stranger. 

" Well, I must announce you myself," said Hag- 
garty, with a smile. " Come, it's just dinner-time, and 
my little cottage is not a hundred yards off." Accord- 
ingly, we all marched in procession to Dennis's little 
cottage, which was one of a row and a half of one sto- 
ried houses, with little court-yards before them, and 
mostly with very fine names on the door-posts of each. 
" Surgeon Haggarty " was emblazoned on Dennis's 
gate on a shining green copper-plate ; and, not content 
with this, on the door-post above the bell was an oval 
with the inscription of "New Molloyville." The bell 
was broken, of course ; the court, or garden-path, was 
mouldy, weedy, seedy ; there were some dirty rocks, by 
way of ornament, round a faded grass-plat in the centre, 
some clothes and rags hanging out of most part of the 
windows of New Molloyville, the immediate entrance to 
which was by a battered scraper, under a broken trel- 
lis-work, up which a withered creeper declined any 
longer to climb* 

"Small, but snug," says Haggarty, " I'll lead the 



DENNIS HAGGARTV'S WIFE. 227 

way, Fitz ; put your hat on the flower-pot there, and 
turn to the left into the drawing-room." A fog of 
onions and turf-smoke filled the whole of the house, and 
gave signs that dinner was not far off — far off ? You 
could hear it frizzling in the kitchen, where the maid 
was also endeavouring to hush the crying of a third 
refractory child. But as we entered all three of Hag- 
garty's darlings were in full war. 

" Is it you, Dennis ?" cried a sharp raw voice, from 
a dark corner in the drawing-room to which we were 
introduced, and in which a dirty table-cloth was laid 
for dinner, some bottles of porter and a cold mutton - 
bone being laid out on a rickety grand-piano hard by. 
" Ye're always late, Mr. Haggarty. Have you brought 
the whisky from Nowlan's ? I'll go bail ye've not 
now." 

" My dear, IVe brought an old friend of yours and 
mine to take pot-luck with us to-day," said Dennis. 

" When is he to come V said the lady. At which 
speech I was rather surprised, for I stood before her. 

" Here he is Jemima, my love," answered Dennis, 
looking at me. " Mr. Fitz-Boodle ; don't you remem- 
ber him in Warwickshire, darling ?" 

" Mr. Fitz-Boodle ! I am very glad to see him," 
said the lady, rising and curtseying with much cor- 
diality. 

Mrs. Haggarty was blind. 

Mrs. Haggarty was not only blind, but it was evi- 
dent that small-pox had been the cause of her loss of 
vision. Her eyes were bound with a bandage, her 
features were entirely swollen, scarred, and distorted by 
the horrible effects of the malady. She had been knit 



228 men's wives. 



ting in a corner when we entered, and was wrapped in 
a very dirty bed-gown. Her voice to me was quite 
different to that in which she addressed her husband. 
She spoke to Haggarty in broad Irish, she addressed 
me in that most odious of all languages — Irish-En glish ? 
endeavouring to the utmost to disguise her brogue, and 
to speak with the true dawdling distingue English air. 

" Are you long in I-a-land ?" said the poor creature 
in this accent. " You must faind it a sad ba'ba'ous 
place, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, I'm shu-ah ! It was vary kaind 
of you to come upon us enfamille, and accept a dinner 
sans ceremonie. Mr. Haggarty, I hope you'll put the 
waine into aice, Mr. Fitz-Boodle must be melted with 
this hot weathah." 

For some time she conducted the conversation in 
this polite strain, and I was obliged to say, in reply to 
a query of hers, that I did not find her the least altered, 
though I should never have recognized her but for this 
rencontre. She told Haggarty with a significant air to 
get the wine from the cellah, and whispered to me that 
he was his own butlah, and the poor fellow taking the 
hint scudded away into the town for a pound of veal 
cutlets and a couple of bottles of wine from the tavern. 

" Will the childthren get their potatoes and butther 
here ?" said a barefoot girl, with long black hair flow- 
ing over her face, which she thrust in at the door. 

u Let them sup in the nursery, Elizabeth, and send — 
ah ! Edwards to me." 

" Is it cook you mane, ma'am ?" said the girl. 

" Send her at once !" shrieked the unfortunate wo- 
man ; and the noise of frying presently ceasing, a per- 
spiring woman made her appearance wiping her brows 



dennis hag g arty's wife. 229 

with her apron, and asking, with an accent decidedly 
Hibernian, what the rnisthress wanted. 

" Lead rne up to my dressing-room, Edwards, I 
really am not fit to be seen in this dishabille by Mr. 
Fitz-Boodle." 

" Fait' I can't !" says Edwards ; "sure the masther's 
out at the butcher's, and can't look to the kitchen 
tire !" 

" Nonsense, I must go !" cried Mrs. Haggarty ; and 
so Edwards, putting on a resigned air, and giving her 
arm and face a further rub with her apron, held out her 
arm to Mrs. Dennis, and the pair went up stairs. 

She left me to indulge my reflections for half an 
hour, at the end of w r hich period she came down-stairs 
dressed in an old yellow satin, with the poor shoulders 
exposed just as much as ever. She had mounted a 
tawdry cap, which Haggarty himself must have selected 
for her. She had all sorts of necklaces, bracelets, and 
ear-rings in gold, in garnets, in mother-of-pearl, in or- 
moulu. She brought in a furious savour of musk, 
which drove the odours of onions and turf-smoke before 
it ; and she waved across her wretched, angular, mean, 
scarred features, an old cambric handkerchief with a 
yellow lace border. 

" And so you would have known me any where, 
Mr. Fitz-Boodle ?" said she, with a grin that was meant 
to be most fascinating. " I was sure you would ; for 
though my dreadful illness deprived me of my sight, it 
is a mercy that it did not change my features or com- 
plexion at all !" 

This mortification had been spared the unhapp) 
woman ; but I don't know whether with all her vanity, 



230 men's wives. 



her infernal pride, folly, and selfishness, it was charita- 
ble to leave her in her error. 

Yet why correct her ? There is a quality in certain 
people which is above all advice, exposure, or correction. 
Only let a man or woman have dulness sufficient, and 
they need bow to no extant authority. A dullard 
recognizes no betters ; a dullard can't see that he is in 
the wrong ; a dullard has no scruples of conscience, no 
doubts of pleasing, or succeeding, or doing right, no 
qualms for other people's feelings, no respect but for the 
fool himself. How can you make a fool perceive that 
he is a fool ? Such a personage can no more see his 
own folly than he can his own ears. And the great 
quality of Dulness is to be unalterably contented with 
itself. What myriads of souls are there of this admira- 
ble sort, — selfish, stingy, ignorant, passionate, brutal, 
bad sons, mothers, fathers, never known to do kind 
actions ! 

To pause, however, in this disquisition which was 
carrying us far off — Kingstown, New Molloyville, Ire- 
land, nay, into the wide world wherever Dulness in- 
habits, let it be stated that Mrs. Haggarty, from my 
brief acquaintance with her and her mother, was of the 
order of persons just spoken of. There was an air of 
conscious merit about her, very hard to swallow along 
with the infamous A dinner poor Dennis managed, after 
much delays, to get on the table. She did not fail to 
invite me to Molloyville, where she said her cousin 
would be charmed to see me ; and she told me almost 
as many anecdotes about that place as her mother used 
to impart in former days. I observed, moreover, that 
Dennis cut her the favourite pieces of the beefsteak, that 



DENNIS HAGGARTY's WIFE. 231 

she ate thereof with great gusto, and that she drank 
with similar eagerness of the various strong liquors at 
table. u We Irish ladies are all fond of a leetle glass of 
punch," she said, with a playful air, and Dennis mixed 
her a powerful tumbler of such violent grog as I myself 
could swallow only with some difficulty. She talked of 
her suffering a great deal, of her sacrifices, of the luxu- 
ries to which she had been accustomed before marriage, 
— in a word, of a hundred of those themes on which 
some ladies are in the custom of enlarging when they 
wish to plague some husbands. 

But honest Dennis, far from being angry at this 
perpetual, wearisome, impudent recurrence to her own 
superiority, rather encouraged the conversation than 
otherwise. It pleased him to hear his wife discourse 
about her merits and family splendours. He was so 
thoroughly beaten down and henpecked, that he, as it 
were, gloried in his servitude, and fancied that his wife's 
magnificence reflected credit on himself. He looked 
towards me, who was half sick of the woman and her 
egotism, as if expecting me to exhibit the deepest sym- 
pathy, and flung me glances across the table, as much 
as to say, " What a gifted creature my Jemima is, and 
what a fine fellow I am to be in possession of her !" 
When the children came down she scolded them, of 
course, and dismissed them abruptly (for which circum- 
stance, perhaps, the writer of these pages was not in his 
heart very sorry), and after having sat a preposterously 
long time left us, asking whether we would have coffee 
there or in her boudoir. 

" Oh ! here, of course," said Dennis, with rather a 
troubled air, and in about ten minutes the lovely crea- 



232 men's wives. 



ture was led back to us again by " Edwards," and the 
coffee made its appearance. After coffee her husband 
begged her to let Mr. Fitz-Boodle hear her voice, " He 
longs for some of his old favourites." 

" No ! do you ?" said she ; and was led in triumph 
to the jingling old piano, and, with a screechy, wiry 
voice, sung those very abominable old ditties which 1 
had heard her sing at Leamington ten years back. 

Haggarty, as she sang, flung himself back in his 
chair delighted. Husbands always are, and with the 
same song, one that they have heard when they were 
nineteen years old, probably ; most Englishmen's tunes 
have that date, and it is rather affecting, I think, to 
hear an old gentleman of sixty or seventy quavering 
the old ditty that was fresh when he was fresh and in 
his prime. If he has a musical wife, depend on it he 
thinks her old songs of 1788 are better than any he 
has heard since ; in fact he has heard none since. When 
the old couple are in high good-humour the old gentle- 
man will take the old lady round the waist and say, 
" My dear, do sing me one of your own songs," and 
she sits down and sings with her cracked old voice, 
and, as she sings, the roses of her youth bloom again 
for a moment. Eanelagh resuscitates, and she is 
dancing a minuet in powder and a train. 

This is another digression. It was occasioned by 
looking at poor Dennis's face while his wife was screech- 
ing (and, believe me, the former was the most pleasant 
occupation). Bottom tickled by the fairies could not 
have been in greater ecstasies. He thought the music 
was divine ; and had further reason for exulting in it, 
which was, that his wife was always in a good humour 



dennis h a gg arty's wife. 233 

after singing, and never would sing but in that happy 
frame of mind. Dennis had hinted so much in our little 
colloquy during the ten minutes of his lady's absence in 
the " boudoir ;" so, at the conclusion of each piece, we 
shouted " Bravo !" and clapped our hands like mad. 

Such was my insight into the life of Surgeon Dio- 
nysius Haggarty and his wife ; and I must have come 
upon him at a favourable moment too, for poor Dennis 
has spoken, subsequently, of our delightful evening at 
Kingstown, and evidently thinks to this day that his 
friend was fascinated by the entertainment there. His 
inward economy was as follows : he had his half pay, a 
thousand pounds, about a hundred a-year that his 
father left, and his wife had sixty pounds a-year from 
her mother, which the father, of course, never paid. 
He had no practice, for he was absorbed in attention to 
his Jemima and the children, whom he used to wash, 
to dress, to carry out, to walk, or to ride, as we have 
seen, and who could not have a servant, as their dear, 
blind mother could never be left alone. Mrs. Haggarty, 
a great invalid, used to lie in bed till one, and have 
breakfast and hot luncheon there. A fifth part of his 
income was spent in having her wheeled about in a 
chair, by which it was his duty to walk daily for an 
allotted number of hours. Dinner would ensue, and 
the amateur clergy, who abound in Ireland, and of 
whom Mrs. Haggarty was a great admirer, lauded her 
every where as a model of resignation and virtue, and 
praised beyond measure the admirable piety with which 
she bore her sufferings. 

Well, every man to his taste. It did not certainly 
appear to me that she was the martyr of the family. 



234 men's wives. 



" The circumstances of my marriage with Jemima," 
Dennis said to me, in some after-conversations we had 
on this interesting subject, " were the most romantic 
and touching you can conceive. You saw what an im- 
pression the dear girl had made upon me when we were 
at Weedon ; for from the first day I set eyes on her, 
and heard her sing her delightful song of ' Dark-eyed 
Maiden of Araby,' I felt, and said to Turniquet of ours, 
that very night, that she was the dark-eyed maiden of 
Araby for me, — not that she was, you know, for she 
was born in Shropshire. But I felt that I had seen the 
woman who was to make me happy or miserable for 
life. You know how I proposed for her at Kenilworth, 
and how I was rejected, and how I almost shot myself 
in consequence, — no, you don't know that, for I said 
nothing about it to any one, but I can tell you it was a 
very near thing, and a very lucky thing for me I didn't 
do it, for, — would you believe it ? — the dear girl was in 
love with me all the time." 

" Was she really 2" said I, who recollected that Miss 
Gam's love of those days showed itself in a very singular 
manner ; but the fact is, when women are most in love 
they most disguise it. 

" Over head and ears in love with poor Dennis," 
resumed that worthy fellow, " who'd ever have thought 
it ? But I have it from the best authority, from her 
own mother, with whom I'm not over and above good 
friends now, but of this fact she assured me, and I'll tell 
you when and how. 

" We were quartered at Cork three years after we 
were at Weedon, and it was our last year at home, and 
a great mercy that my dear girl spoke in time, or where 



DENNIS HAGGARTY's WIFE. 235 

should we have been now ? Well; one clay, marching 
home from parade, I saw a lady seated at an open 
window by another, who seemed an invalid, and the 
lady at the window, who was dressed in the profoundest 
mourning, cried out, with a scream, ' Gracious heavens ! 
it's Mr. Haggarty of the 120th.' 

" ' Sure I know r that voice,' says I to Whiskerton. 

" * It's a great mercy you don't know it a deal too 
well,' says he, ' it's Lady Gammon. She's on some 
husband-hunting scheme, depend on it, for that daughter 
of hers. She was at Bath last year on the same errand, 
and at Cheltenham the year before, where, Heaven bless 
you ! she's as well known as the Hen and Chickens.' 

" ' I'll thank you not to spe.ak disrespectfully of Miss 
Jemima Gam,' said I to Whiskerton ; ' she's of one of 
the first families in Ireland, and whoever says a w T ord 
against a woman I once proposed for, insults me, — do 
you understand ?' 

" ' Well, marry her, if you like,' says Whiskerton, 
quite peevish, ' marry her, and be hanged !' 

" Marry her ! the very idea of it set my brain a 
whirling, and made me a thousand times more mad 
than I am by nature. 

" You may be sure I walked up the hill to the 
parade-ground that afternoon, and with a beating heart 
too. I came to the widow's house. It was called ' New 
Molloy ville,' as this is. Wherever she takes a house for 
six months, she calls it ' New Molloy ville ;' and has had 
one in Mallow, in Bandon, in Sligo, in Castlebar, in 
Formoy, in Drogheda, and the deuce knows where 
besides ; but the blinds were down, and though I 
thought I saw somebody behind 'em, no notice was 



236 men's wives. 



taken of poor Denny Haggarty, and I paced up and 
down all mess-time in hopes of catching a glimpse of 
Jemima, but in vain. The next day I was on the ground 
again ; I was just as much in love as ever, that's the 
fact. I'd never been in that way before, look you, and 
when once caught, I knew it was for life. 

" There's no use in telling you how long I beat about 
the bush, but when I did get admittance to the house 
(it was through the means of young Castlereagh Mol- 
loy, whom you may remember at Leamington, and who 
was at Cork for the regatta, and used to dine at our 
mess, and had taken a mighty fancy to me), when I did 
get into the house, I say, I rushed in medias res at 
once ; I couldn't keep myself quiet, my heart was too 
full. 

" Fitz ! I shall never forget the day, — the moment 
I was inthrojuiced into the dthrawing-room" (as he 
began to be agitated, Dennis's brogue broke out with 
greater richness than ever, but though a stranger may 
catch, and repeat from memory, a few words, it is next 
to impossible for him to keep up a conversation in Irish, 
so that we had best give up all attempts to imitate 
Dennis), " when I saw old Mother Gam," said he, " my 
feelings overcame me all at once ; I rowled down on the 
ground, sir, as if I'd been hit by a musket-ball. ' Dearest 
madam,' says I, ' I'll die if you don't give me Jemima.' 

" 4 Heavens ! Mr. Haggarty,' says she, ' how you 
seize me with surprise ! Castlereagh, my dear nephew, 
had you not better leave us V and away he went, light- 
ing a cigar, and leaving me still on the floor. 

" ' Rise, Mr. Haggarty,' continued the widow, * I 
will not attempt to deny that this constancy towards my 



DENNIS HAGGARTY's WIFE. 237 

daughter is extremely affecting, however sudden your 
present appeal may be. I will not attempt to deny 
that, perhaps, Jemima may feel a similar; but, as I 
said, I never could give my daughter to a Catholic' 

" ' I'm as good a Protestant as yourself, ma'am,' 
says I ; ' my mother was an heiress, and we were all 
brought up her way.' 

" ' That makes the matter very different,' says she, 
turning up the whites of her eyes. * How could I ever 
have reconciled it to my conscience to see my blessed 
child married to a Papist ? How could I ever have 
taken him to Molloyville ? Well, this obstacle being 
removed, / must put myself no longer in the way be- 
tween two young people. / must sacrifice myself, as I 
always have when my darling girl was in question. 
You shall see her, the poor, dear, lovely, gentle sufferer, 
and learn your fate from her own lips.' 

" ' The sufferer ma'am,' says I ; ' has Miss Gam 
been ill V 

" ' What ! haven't you heard V cried the widow. 
'Haven't you heard of the dreadful illness which so 
nearly carried her from me ? For nine weeks, Mr. 
Haggarty, I watched her day and night, without taking 
a wink of sleep, — for nine weeks she lay trembling be- 
tween death and life, and I paid the doctor eighty-three 
guineas. She is restored now, but she is the wreck of 
the beautiful creature she was. Suffering, and, perhaps, 
another disappointment — but we won't mention that 
now — have pulled her so down. But I will leave you, 
and prepare my sweet girl for this strange, this entirely 
unexpected visit.' 

" I won't tell you what took place between me and 



238 men's wives. 



Jemima, to whom I was introduced as she sat in the 
darkened room, poor sufferer ! nor describe to you with 
what a thrill of joy I seized (after groping about for it) 
her poor emaciated hand. She did not withdraw it ; I 
came out of that room an engaged man, sir ; and now 
I was enabled to show her that I had always loved her 
sincerely, for there was my will, made three years back, 
in her favour ; that night she refused me, as I told ye, I 
would have shot myself, but they'd have brought me in 
non compos, and my brother Mick would have contested 
the will, and so I determined to live, in order that she 
might benefit by my dying. I had but a thousand 
pounds then, since that my father has left me two more ; 
I willed every shilling upon her, as you may fancy, and 
settled it upon her when we married, as we did soon 
after. It was not for some time that I w T as allowed to 
see the poor girl's face, or, indeed, was aware of the 
horrid loss she had sustained. Fancy my agony, my 
dear fellow, when I saw that beautiful wreck !" 

There was something not a little affecting, I think, 
in the conduct of this brave fellow ; that he never once, 
as he told his story, seemed to allude to the possibility 
of his declining to marry a woman who was not the 
same as the woman he loved ; but that he was quite as 
faithful to her when ill, hideous, and blind, as he had 
been when captivated by the poor, tawdry charms of the 
si \\y miss of Leamington. It was hard that such a noble 
heart as this should be flung away upon yonder foul 
mass of greedy vanity. Was it hard, or not, that he 
should remain deceived in his obstinate humility, and 
continue to admire the selfish, silly being whom he had 
chosen to worship ? 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 239 

" I should have been appointed surgeon of the re- 
giment," continued Dennis, "soon after, when it was or- 
dered abroad to Jamaica, where it now is. But my 
wife would not hear of going, and said she would break 
her heart if she left her mother. So I retired on half- 
pay, and took this cottage ; and in case any practice 
should fall in my way, why there is my name on the 
brass plate, and I'm ready for any thing that comes. 
But the only case that ever did come was one day when 
I was driving my wife in the chaise, and another, one 
night of a beggar with a broken head. My wife makes 
me a present of a baby every year, and we've no debts ; 
and between you and me and the post, as long as my 
mother-in-law is out of the house, I'm as happy as I 
need be." 

" What, you and the old lady don't get on well ?" 
said I. 

" I can't say we do ; it's not in nature, you know," 
said Dennis, with a faint grin. " She comes into the 
house, and turns it topsy-turvy. When she's here I'm 
obliged to sleep in the scullery. She's never paid her 
daughter's income since the first year, though she brags 
about her sacrifices as if she had ruined herself for Je- 
mima ; and, besides, when she's here, there's a whole 
dan of the Molloys, horse, foot, and dragoons, that are 
quartered upon us, and eat me out of house and home." 

" And is Molloyville such a fine place as the widow 
described it ?" asked I, laughing, and not a little curi- 
ous. 

" Oh, a mighty fine place entirely !" said Dennis. 
u There's the oak park of two hundred acres, the finest 
land ye ever saw, only they've cut all the wood down. 



240 men's wives. 



The garden in the old Molloy's time, they say, was the 
finest ever seen in the west of Ireland ; but they've 
taken all the glass to mend the house windows, and 
small blame to them either. There's a clear rent roll 
of three and fifty hundred a-year, only it's in the hand 
of receivers ; besides other debts, on which there is no 
land security." 

" Your cousin-in-law, Castlereagh Molloy, won't conn 
into a large fortune ?" 

" Oh, he'll do very well," said Dennis. " As long as 
he can get credit, he's not the fellow to stint himself. 
Faith, I was fool enough to put my name to a bit of 
paper for him, and they could not catch him in Mayo ; 
they laid hold of me at Kingstown here. And there 
was a pretty to do. Didn't Mrs. Gam say I was ruin- 
ing her family, that's all ? I paid it by instalments 
(for all my money is settled on Jemima) ; and Castle- 
reagh, who's an honourable fellow, offered me any sat- 
isfaction in life. Any how, he couldn't do more than 
that? 

" Of course not, and now you're friends." 

" Yes, and he and his aunt have had a tiff, too ; and 
he abuses her properly, I warrant ye. He says that 
she carried about Jemima from place to place, and flung 
her at the head of every unmarried man in England 
a'most, — my poor Jemima, and she all the while dying 
in love with me! As soon as she got over the small- 
pox — she took it at Fermoy — God bless her, I wish I'd 
been by to be her nurse-tender, — as soon as she was 
rid of it, the old lady said to Castlereagh, i Castlereagh, 
go to the bar'cks, and find out in the army list where 
the 120th is.' Off she came to Cork hot foot. It ap- 



den ms h ag g Arty's wife. 241 

pears that while she was ill, Jemima's love for me 
showed itself in such a violent way that her mother 
was overcome, and promised that, should the dear child 
recover, she w r ould try and bring us together. Oastle- 
reagh says she would have gone after us to Jamaica." 

" I have no doubt she would," said I. 

" Could you have a stronger proof of love than 
that ?" cried Dennis. " My dear girl's illness and fright- 
ful blindness have, of course, injured her health and 
her temper. She cannot in her position look to the 
children, you know, and so they come under my charge 
for the most part ; and her temper is unequal, certainly. 
But you see what a sensitive, refined, elegant creature 
she is, and may fancy that she's often put out by a 
rough fellow like me." 

Here Dennis left me, saying it was time to go and 
walk out the children ; and I think his story has matter 
of some wholesome reflection in it for bachelors who are 
about to change their condition, or may console some who 
are mourning their celibacy. Many, gentleman, if you 
like ; leave your comfortable dinner at the club for cold 
mutton and curl papers at your home ; give up your 
books or pleasures, and take to yourselves wives and 
children ; but think well on what you do first, as I have 
no doubt you will after this advice and example. Ad- 
vice is always useful in matters of love ; men always 
•take it; they always follow other people's opinions, not 
their own : they always profit by example. When they 
see a pretty woman, and feel the delicious madness of 
love coming over them, they always stop to calculate 
her temper, her money, their own money, or suitable- 
ness for the married life, * * * Ha, ha, ha ! Let 
11 



2-42 men's wives. 



us fool in this way no more. I have been in love forty- 
three times with all ranks and conditions of women, 
and would have married every time if they would have 
let me. How many wives had King Solomon, the 
wisest of men ? And is not that story a warning to us 
that Love is master of the wisest ? It is only fools who 
defy him. * 

I must come, however, to the last, and perhaps the 
saddest, part of poor Denny Haggarty's history. I met 
him once more, and in such a condition as made me 
determine to write this history. 

In the month of June last, I happened to be at 
Richmond, a delightful little place of retreat ; and there, 
sunning himself upon the terrace, was my old friend of 
the 120th ; he looked older, thinner, poorer, and more 
wretched, than I had ever seen him. 

" What ! you have given up Kingstown V 9 said I, 
shaking him by the hand, 

" Yes," says he. 

" And is my lady and your family here at Rich- 
mond ?" 

" No," says he, with a sad shake of the head ; and 
the poor fellow's hollow eyes filled with tears. 

" Good Heavens, Denny ! what's the matter f said 
I. He was squeezing my hand like a vice as I spoke. 

" They've left me !" he burst out with a dreadful 
shout of passionate grief — a horrible scream which 
seemed to be wrenched out of his heart ; " left me !" 
said he, sinking down on a seat, and clenching his 
great fists, and shaking his lean arms wildly. " I'm a 
wise man now, Mr. Fitz-Boodle. Jemima has gone 
away from me, and yet you know how I loved her, and 



DENNIS HAGGARTY's WIFE. 243 

how happy we were ! I've got nobody now ; but I'll 
die soon, that's one comfort; and to think it's she that'll 
kill me after all !" 

The story, which he told with a wild and furious 
lamentation such as is not known among men of our 
cooler country, and such as I don't like now to recall, 
was a very simple one. The mother-in-law had taken 
possession of the house, and had driven him from it. 
His property at his marriage was settled on his wife. 
She had never loved him, and told him this secret at 
last, and drove him out of doors with her selfish scorn 
and ill temper. The boy had died ; the girls were bet- 
ter, he said, brought up among the Molloys than they 
could be with him ; and so he was quite alone in the 
world, and was living, or rather dying, on forty pounds 
a-year. 

His troubles are very likely over by this time. The 
two fools who caused his misery will never read this 
history of him ; they never read godless stories in mag- 
azines : and I wish, honest reader, that you and I went 
to church as much as they do. These people are not 
wicked because of their religious observances, but in spite 
of them. They are too dull to understand humility, 
too blind to see a tender and simple heart under a 
rough ungainly bosom. They are sure that all their 
conduct towards my poor friend here has been perfectly 
righteous, and that they have given proofs of the most 
Christian virtue. Haggarty's wife is considered by her 
friends as a martyr to a savage husband, and her 
mother is the angel that has come to rescue her. All 
they did was to cheat him and desert him. And safe 
in that wonderful self-complacency with which the foola 






244 



of this earth are endowed, they have not a single pang 
of conscience for their villany towards him, and con- 
sider their heartlessness as a proof and consequence of 
their spotless piety and virtue. 



THE 'S WIFE. 

We lay down on a little mound at a half league from 
the city gates in a pleasant grass besprinkled with all 
the flowers of summer. The river went shining by us, 
jumping over innumerable little rocks, and by beds of 
waving, whispering rushes, until it reached the old city 
bridge with its dismantled tower and gate, under the 
shadow of which sat Maximilian in his eternal punt 
bobbing for gudgeon. Further on you saw the ancient 
city walls and ramparts, with the sentinels pacing be- 
fore the blue and yellow barriers, and the blue eagle of 
Pumpernickel over the gate. All the towers and 
steeples of the town rose behind the grim bastions, 
under the clear blue sky ; the bells were ringing as 
they always are, the birds in the little wood hard by 
were singing and chirping, the garden-houses and tav- 
erns were full of students drinking beer, and resounded 
with their choruses. To the right was the old fortress, 
with its gables and pinnacles cresting the huge hill, up 
which a zig-zag path toiled painfully. 

" It is easier," said I, with much wisdom, " to come 
down that hill than to mount it." I suppose the rob- 
ber-knights who inhabited Udolf of old, chose the situa- 
tion for that reason. If they saw a caravan in the 
plain here, they came down upon it with an impetus 
that infallibly overset the guards of the merchants' 



246 men's wives. 



treasure. If the dukes took a fancy to attack it, the 
escaladers, when they reached the top of the eminence, 
were so out of wind that they could be knocked over 
like so many penguins, and were cut down before they 
had rallied breath enough to cry quarter. From Udolf 
you could batter the town to pieces in ten minutes. 
What a skurry there would be if a shell fell plump into 
the market-place, and what a deal of eggs and butter 
would be smashed there ! Hark ! there is a bugle. 

" It is the mad trumpeter," said Schneertbart. 
" Half the fortress is given up now to the madmen of 
the principality, and the other half is for the felons. 
See ! there is a gang of them at work on the road 
yonder." 

" Is Udolf any relation of the Castle of Udolpho f 

" It has its mysteries," said Milchbrod, nodding his 
head solemnly, " as well as that castle which Lord 
Byron has rendered immortal. Was it not Lord 
Byron ?" 

" Caspar Milchbrod, I believe it was," answered I. 
" Do you know any of them ? If you have a good 
horrid story of ghosts, robbers, cut-throats, and murders, 
pray tell it ; we have an hour yet to dinner, and mur- 
der is my delight !" 

" I shall tell you the story of Angelica, the wife of 
the — Hum !" said he. 

" Whose wife?" 

" That is the point of the story. You may add it to 
your histories of 'Men's Wives,' that are making such a 
sensation all over England and Germany. Listen !" 

Schneetbart, at the mention of the story, first jump- 
ed up as if he would make off; but, being fat and of 



-'s wife. 247 



an indolent turn, he thought better of it, and, pulling 
the flap of his cap over his face, and sprawling out on 
his back, like the blue spread-eagle over the tower-gate, 
incontinently fell asleep. 

Milchbrod darting at him a look of scorn, began the 
following history : 

" In the time of Duke Bernard the Invincible, 
whose victory over Sigismund of Kalbsbratia obtained 
him the above w r ell-merited title (for though he was 
beaten several times afterwards, yet his soul was en- 
couraged to the end, and, therefore, he was denominated 
Invincible with perfect justice). In Duke Bernard's 
time the fortress of UdolE was much more strongly gar- 
risoned than at present, though a prison then as now. 
The great hall, where you may now see the poor mad- 
men of the duchy eating their humble broth from their 
wooden trenchers and spoons, w r as the scene of many a 
gallant feast, from which full butts of wine returned 
empty ; fat oxen disappeared, all except the bone ; at 
which noble knights got drunk by the side of spotless 
ladies, and were served off gold and out of jewelled 
flagons by innumerable pages and domestics in the 
richest of liveries. A sad change is it now, my friend. 
When I think the livery of the place is an odious red 
and yellow serge, that the servants of the castle have 
their heads shaved and a chain to their legs instead of 
round their necks, and when I think that the glories 
and festivities of Udolf are now passed aw r ay for ever ! 
Oh ! golden days of chivalry, a descendant of the 
Milchbrods may well deplore you ! 

" The court where they beat hemp now was once 
a stately place of arms, where warriors jousted and 



248 

knights ran at the ring. Ladies looked on from the 
windows of the great hall and from the castellan's 
apartments, and, though the castle was gay and lordly 
as a noble castle should be, yet were not the purposes 
of security and punishment forgotten ; under the great 
hall were innumerable dungeons, vaults, and places of 
torture, where the enemies of our dukes suffered the 
punishment of their crimes. They have been bricked 
up now for the most part, for what I cannot but call a 
foolish philanthropy found these dungeon too moist 
and too dark for malefactors of the present day, who 
must, forsooth, have whitewashed rooms and dry bed- 
dings, whilst our noble ancestors were fain to share 
their cell with toads, serpents, and darkness ; and some- 
times instead of flock mattrasses and iron bedsteads, to 
stretch their limbs on the rack. Civilization, my dear 
sir " 

Here a loud snort from Schneertbart possibly gave 
Milchbrod a hint, that he was digressing too much ; 
and, omitting his opinions about civilization, he pro- 
ceeded. 

" In Duke Bernard's time, then, this prison was in 
its most palmy and flourishing state. The pains of the 
rack and the axe were at that time much more frequent 
than at present, and the wars of religion in which Ger- 
many was plunged, and in which our good duke, ac- 
cording to his convictions, took alternately the Roman- 
ist and the Reformed side, brought numbers of our no- 
bles into arms, into conspiracies and treasons, and con- 
sequently, into prison and torture-chambers. I men- 
tion these facts to show, that as the prison was a place 
of some importance, and containing people of rank, the 



THE 's WIFE. 249 

guardianship was naturally confided to a person in 
whom the duke could place the utmost confidence. 
Have you ever heard of the famous Colonel Dolch en- 
blitz ?" 

I confessed I had not. 

" Dolchenblitz, as a young man, was one of the 
most illustrious warriors of his day ; and, as a soldier, 
captain and afterwards colonel of free companies, had 
served under every flag in every war and in every 
country in Europe. He, under the French, conquered 
the Milanese; he then passed over into the Spanish 
service, and struck down King Francis at Pavia with 
his hammer-of arms ; he was the fourth over the wall 
of Rome when it was sacked by the constable, and 
having married and made a considerable plunder there, 
he returned to his native country, where he distinguished 
himself alternately in the service of the emperor and 
the Reformed princes. A wound in the leg prevented 
him at length from being so active in the field as he 
had been accustomed to be ; and Duke Bernard the 
Invincible, knowing his great bravery, his skill, his un- 
alterable fidelity (which was indestructible as long as 
his engagement lasted), and his great cruelty and 
sternness, chose him very properly to be governor of 
his state fortress and prison. 

"The lady whom Colonel Dolchenblitz married was 
a noble and beautiful Roman, and his wooing of her it 
would appear was somewhat short. ' I took the best 
method of winning Frau Dolehenblitz's heart,' he would 
say. ' I am an ugly old trooper, covered with scars, 
fond of drink and dice, with no more manners than 
my battle-horse, and she, forsooth, was in love with 
11 # 



250 men's wives. 



a young countlet who was as smooth as herself 
and as scented as a flower-garden ; but when my 
black-riders dragged her father and brother into 
the court-yard, and had ropes ready to hang them at 
the gate, I warrant my Angelica found that she loved 
me better than her scented lover ; and so I saved the 
lives of my father and brother-in-law, and the dear 
creature consented to be mine. 

"Of this marriage there came but one child, a 
daughter ; and the Roman lady presently died, not al- 
together sound in her senses, it was said, from the 
treatment to which her rough husband subjected her. 
The widower did not pretend to much grief ; and the 
daughter who had seen her mother sneered at, sworn 
at, beaten daily when her gallant father was in liquor, 
had never had any regard for her poor mother ; and, 
in her father's quarrels with his lady, used from her 
earliest years to laugh and rejoice and take the old 
trooper's side. You may imagine from this,' cried 
Milchbrod, 'that she was not brought up in a very 
amiable school. Ah !' added the youth, with a blush, 
1 how unlike was she, in all respects but in beauty, to 
my Lischen !' 

" There is still in the castle gallery a picture of the 
Angelica, who bore the reputation at eighteen of being 
one of the most beautiful women in the world. She is 
represented in a dress of red velvet looped up at the 
sleeves and breast with jewels, her head is turned over 
her shoulder looking at you, and her long yellow hair 
flows over her neck. Her eyes are blue, her eyebrows 
of an auburn colour, her lips open and smiling; but 
that smile is so diabolical, and those eyes have such an 



vine WIFE. 251 

infernal twinkle, that it is impossible to look at the picture 
without a shudder, and I declare, for my part, that I 
would not like to be left alone in a room with the por- 
trait and its horrid glassy eyes always following and 
leering after you. 

From a very early age her father would always 
insist upon having her by his side at table, where I 
promise you the conversation was not always as choice 
as in a nunnery, and where they drank deeper than at a 
hermitage. After dinner the dice w r ould be brought, 
and the little girl often called the mains and threw for 
her father, and he said she always brought him luck 
when she did so. But this must have been a fancy of the 
old soldier's, for, in spite of his luck, he grew poorer and 
poorer, all his plunder taken in the wars went gradually 
dow r n the throat of the dice-box, and he was presently 
so poor that his place as governor of the prison was his 
only means of livelihood, and that he could only play 
once a month when his pay came in. 

" In spite of his poverty and dissolute life and his 
ill-treatment of his lady, he was inordinately proud of 
his marriage ; for the truth is, the lady was of the 
Colonna family. There was not a princess of Germany 
who, in the matter of birth, was more haughty than 
Madame Angelica, the governor's daughter ; and the 
young imp of Lucifer, when she and her father sat at 
drink and dice with the lance-knights and officers, 
always took the pas of her own father, and had a 
raised seat for herself, while her company sat on benches. 
The old soldier admired this pride in his daughter as 
lie admired every other good or bad quality she pos- 
sessed. She had often seen the prisoners flogged in the 



252 men's wives. 



court-yard, and never turned pale. 4 Par Dieu P the 
father would say, i the girl has a gallant courage !' If 
she lost at dice she would swear in her shrill voice as 
well as any trooper, and the father would laugh till the 
tears ran down his old cheeks. She could not read 
very well, but she could ride like an Amazon ; and 
Count Sprinboch (the court chamberlain, who was im- 
prisoned ten years at Udolf for treading on the duchess- 
dowager's gouty toe), taking a fancy to the child taught 
her to dance and sing to the mandolin, in both of which 
accomplishments she acquired great skill. 

" Such were the accomplishments of the Angelica, 
when, at about the sixteenth year of her age, the court 
came to reside in the town ; for the Imperialists were 
in possession of our residence, and here, at a hundred 
miles away from them, Duke Bernard the Invincible 
was free from .molestation. On the first public day the 
governor of the fort came down in his litter to pay his 
respects to the sovereign, and his daughter, the lovely 
Angelica, rode a white palfrey and ambled most grace- 
fully at his side. 

" The appearance of such a beauty set all the court- 
gallants in a flame. Not one of the maids of honour 
could compare with her, and their lovers left them by 
degrees. The steep road up to the castle yonder was 
scarce ever without one or more cavaliers upon it pink- 
ed out in their best, as gay as chains and feathers could 
make them, and on the way to pay their court to the 
Lily of Udolf ; the lily — the Tiger-lily, forsooth ! But 
man, foolish man, only looked to the face, and not to 
the soul, as I did when I selected my Lischen. 

" The drinking and dicing now went on more gaily 



THE 's WIFE. 253 

than it had done for many years ; for when the young 
noblemen sit down to play with a lady we know who it 
is that wins, and Madame Angelica \vas,pardi, not squea- 
mish in gaining their money. It was, ' Fair sir, I will be 
double or quits with you.' ' Noble baron, I will take you 
three to one.' ' Worthy count, I will lay my gold chain 
against your bay gelding.' And so forth. And by the 
side of the lovely daughter sat the old father, tossing 
the drink off, and flinging the dice, and roaring, swear- 
ing, and singing, like a godless old trooper as he was. 
Then, of mornings there would be hunting and hawk- 
ing parties, and it was always who should ride by the 
Angelica's side, and who should have the best horse, 
and the finest doublet, and leap the biggest ditch, over 
which she could jump, I warrant you, as well as the 
best rider there. The staid matrons and ladies of the 
court avoided this syren, but what cared she so long as 
the men were with her ? The duke did not like to see 
his young men thus on the road to ruin ; but his advice 
and his orders were all in vain. The Erb Prinz him- 
self, Prince Maurice, was caught by the infection, and 
having fallen desperately in love with Angelica, and 
made her great presents of jewels and horses, was sent 
by his father to Wittenberg, where he was told to for- 
get his love in his books. 

"There was, however, in the duke's service, an 
especial friend and favourite of the hereditary prince, a 
young gentleman by the name of Ernst von Waldberg, 
who, though sent back to the university along with the 
young duke, had not the heart to remain there, for, 
indeed, his heart was at Castle Udolf with the bewitch- 
ing Angelica. This unlucky and simple Ernst was the 



254 men's wives. 



most passionate of all the Angelica's admirers, and had 
committed a thousand extravagancies for her sake. 
He had ridden into Hungary and brought back a 
Turkish turban for her, with an unbeliever's head in it, 
too. He had sold half his father's estate and bought 
a jewel with it, which he presented to her. He had 
wagered a hundred gold crowns against a lock of her 
hair, and, having won, caused a casket to be made with 
the money, on which was engraved an inscription by the 
court poet, signifying that the gold within the casket was 
a thousand times more valuable than the gold whereof 
it was made, and that one was the dross of the earth, 
whereas the other came from an angel. 

" An angel, indeed ! If they had christened that 
Angelica Diabolica, they would have been nearer the 
mark ; but the devils were angels once, and one of these 
fallen ones was Angelica. 

" When the poor young fellow had well-nigh spent 
his all in presents and jewels for Angelica, or over the 
tables and dice with her father, he bethought him that 
he would ask the young lady in marriage, and so hum- 
bly proffered his suit. 

" ' How much land have you, my Lord Ernst V 
said she, in a scornful way. 

" ' Alas ! I am but a younger son. My brother 
Max has the family estate, and I but an old tower and 
a few acres, which came to me from my mother's fam- 
ily,' answered Ernst. But he did not say how his bro- 
ther had often paid his debts and filled his purse, and 
how many of the elder's crowns had been spent over 
the dice-table and had gone to enrich Angelica and her 
father. 



THE S WIFE. 255 

" ' But you must have great stores of money,' con- 
tinued she, ' for what gentleman of the court spends so 
gallantly as you V 

" * It is my brother's money,' said Ernst, gloomily, 
' and I will ask him for no more of it. But I have 
enough left to buy a horse and a sword, and with these, 
if you will but me mine, I vow to win fame and wealth 
enough for any princess in Christendom.' 

" ' A horse and sword !' cried Angelica ; t a pretty 
fortune, forsooth! Any one of my father's troopers 
has as much ! You win fame and wealth ; you a fit- 
ting husband for the best lady in Christendom ? Psha ! 
Look what you have done as yet, Sir Ernst, and brag 
no more. You had a property, and you spent it in 
three months upon a woman you never saw before. I 
have no fancy to marry a beggar, or to trust to an elder 
brother for charity, or to starve in rags with the rats in 
your family tower. Away with you, Sir Spendthrift, 
buy your horse and sword if you will, and go travel 
and keep yourself and your horse ; you will find the 
matter hard enough without having a wife at your pil- 
lion.' 

"And, so saying, she called her huntsmen and 
hawks, and, with a gay train of gentlemen behind her, 
went out into the woods, as usual, where Diana herself, 
had she been out a-hunting that day, could not have 
been more merry, nor looked more beautiful and royal. 

" As for Ernst, when he found how vain his love 
was, and that he had only been encouraged by Angelica 
in order to be robbed and cast away, a deep despair 
took possession of the poor lad's soul, and he went in 
anguish back to his brother's house, who tried, but in 



256 men's wives. 



vain, to console him; for, having stayed awhile with 
his brother, Ernst one morning suddenly took horse and 
rode away, never to return. The next thing that his 
weeping elder brother heard of him was that he had 
passed into Hungary, and had been slain by the Turk 
before Buda. One of his comrades in the war brought 
back a token from Ernst to his brother Max — it w r as 
the gold casket which contained the hair of Angelica. 

"Angelica no more wept at receiving this news than 
she had done at Ernst's departure. She hunted with 
her gallants as before, and on the very night after she 
had heard of poor young Ernst's death, appeared at 
supper in a fine gold chain and scarlet robe he had 
given her. The hardness of her heart did not seem to 
deter the young gentlemen of Saxony from paying 
court to her, and her cruelty only added to the univer- 
sal fame of her beauty. 

" Though she had so many scores of lovers, and 
knew well enough that these do not increase with age, 
she had never as yet condescended to accept of one for 
a husband, and others, and of the noblest sort, might 
be mentioned, who, as well as Ernst, had been ruined 
and forsaken by her. A certain witch had told her 
that she should marry a nobleman who should be the 
greatest swordsman of his day. Who was the greatest 
warrior of Germany ? I am not sure that she did not 
look for King Gustave to divorce his wife and fall on 
his knees to her, or for dark Wallenstein to conjure the 
death of his princess and make Angelica the lady of 
Sagan. Thus time went on. Lovers went up the hill 
of Udolf, and, in sooth ! lovers came down ; the lady 
there was still the loveliest of the land, and when the 



THE 's WIFE. 257 

crown prince came home from Wittenberg she would 
still have been disposed to exercise her wiles upon 
him, but that it was now too late, for the wise duke, 
his highness's father, had married the young lord 
to a noble princess of Bavaria, in whose innocence he 
forgot the dangerous and wicked Angelica. I promise 
you the lady of Udolf sneered prettily at the new prin- 
cess, and talked of l his highness's humpbacked Ve- 
nus ;' all which speeches were carried to court, and 
inspired the duke with such a fury, that he was for 
shutting up Angelica as a prisoner in her father's own 
castle ; but wise counsellors intervened, and it was 
thought best to let the matter drop. For, indeed, com- 
parisons between the royal princess and the lady of 
Udolf would have been only unfavourable to the form- 
er, who, between ourselves, was dark of complexion, 
and not quite so straight either in the back as was her 
rival. 

" Presently there came to court Max, Ernst's elder 
brother, a grave man, of a sharp and bitter wit, given 
to books and studies, but, withal, gentle and generous 
to the poor. No one knew how generous until he died, 
when there followed, weeping, such crowds of the hum- 
bler sort his body to the grave as never was known in 
that day, for the good old nobles were rather accus- 
tomed to take than to give, and the Lord Max was of 
the noblest and richest of all the families of the duchy. 

"Calm as he was, yet, strange to say, he too was 
speedily caught in the toils of Angelica, and seemed to be 
as much in love with her as his unfortunate brother had 
been. c I do not wonder at Ernst's passion for such an 
angelical being,' he said, ' and can fancy any man dying 



258 men's wives. 



in despair of winning her.' These words were carried 
quickly to the lady of Udolf, and the next court party 
where she met Max she did not fail to look towards 
him with all the fascinations of her wonderful eyes, 
from which Max, blushing and bowing, retreated com- 
pletely overcome. You might see him on his grey 
horse riding up the mountain to Udolf as often as his 
brother had been seen on his bay ; and of all the de- 
voted slaves Angelica had in her court this unhappy 
man became the most subservient. He forsook his 
books and calm ways of life to be always by the en- 
chantress's side ; he, who had never cared for sport, now, 
for the pleasure of following Angelica, became a regular 
Nimrod of the chase ; and although, up to the time of 
his acquaintance with her, he had abhorred wine and 
gaming, he would pass nights now boozing with the 
old drunkard her father, and playing at the dice with 
him and his daughter. 

" There was something in his love for her that was 
quite terrible. Common, light-minded gallants of the 
day, do not follow a woman as Max did, but if rebuffed 
by one, fly off to another ; or, if overcome by a rival, 
wish him good luck and betake themselves elsewhere. 
This ardent gentlman, loving for the first time, seemed 
resolved to have no rival near him, and Angelica could 
scarcely pardon him for the way in which he got rid of 
her lovers one after another. There was Baron Herman, 
who was much in her good graces, and w r as sent aw T ay 
to England by Max's influence with the duke ; there 
was Count Augustus, with whom he picked a quarrel, 
and whom he wounded in a duel. All the world 
deplored the infatuation of this brave gentleman, and 



THE 's WIFE. 259 

the duke himself took him to task for suffering himself 
to be enslaved by a woman who had already been so 
fatal to his family. 

" He placed himself as such a dragon before her 
gate that he drove away all wavering or faint-hearted 
pretenders to her hand ; and it seemed pretty clear 
that Angelica, if she would not marry him, would find 
it very difficult to marry another. And why not marry 
hirn ? He was noble, rich, handsome, wise, and brave. 
What more could a lady require in a husband ? and 
could the proud Angelica herself expect a better fate ? 
' In my mother's lifetime,' Max said, ' I cannot marry. 
She is old now, and was much shaken by the death of 
Ernst, and she would go to the grave with a curse on 
her lips for me did she think I was about to marry the 
woman who caused my brother's death.' 

" Thus, although he did not actually offer his hand 
to her, he came to be considered generally as her ac- 
cepted lover ; and the gallants who before had been ever 
round her fell off one by one. I am not sure whether 
Madame Angelica was pleased with the alteration, and 
whether she preferred the adoration of a single heart to 
the love of many, to which she had been accustomed 
before. Perhaps, however, her reasoning was this, c I am 
sure of Max ; he is a husband of whom any woman 
might be proud ; and very few nobles in Germany are 
richer or of better blood than he. He cannot marry for 
some time to come. Well, I am young, and can afford 
to wait; and if, meanwhile, there present itself some 
better name, fortune, and person than Max's, I am free 
to choose, and can fling him aside like his brother before 
him.' Meantime, thought she, I can dress Max to the 



260 men's wives. 



menage of matrimony ; which meant, that she could 
make a very slave of him, as she did ; and he was as 
obedient to her caprice and whims as her page or her 
waiting- worn an. 

a The entertainments which were given at Castle 
Udolf were rather more liked by the gentlemen than by 
the ladies, who had little love for a person like Angelica, 
the daughter of a man only ennobled yesterday — a wo- 
man who lived, laughed, rode, gambled, in the society 
of men as familiarly as if she had a beard on her chin 
and a rapier at her side ; and, above all, a woman who 
was incomparably handsomer than the handsomest of 
her rivals. Thus ladies' visits to her were not frequent ; 
nor, indeed, did she care much for their neglect. She 
was not born, she said, to spin flax ; nor to embroider 
cushions ; nor to look after housemaids and scullions, as 
ladies do. She received her male guests as though she 
were a queen, to whom they came to pay homage, and 
little cared that their wives stayed at home. 

" At one of her entertainments Max appeared with 
two masks (it was the custom of those days for persons 
to go so disguised ; and you would see at a court-ball 
half the ladies, and men, especially the ugly of the form- 
er sex, so habited) ; the one, coming up to Angelica, 
withdrew his vizard, and she saw it was her ancient ad- 
mirer the prince, who stayed for a while, besought her, 
laughing, to keep his visit a secret from the princess, 
and then left her to Max and the other mask ; but the 
other did not remove his covering, though winningly 
entreated thereto by Angelica. 

" The mask and Max, after a brief conversation with 
the lady of the castle, sat down to the tables to play at 



THE 's WIFE. 261 

dice. And Max called presently to Angelica to come 
and play for him, to the which invitation, nothing loth, 
she acceded. That dice-box has a temptation for woman 
as well as man, and woe to both if they yield to it ! 

" ' Who is the mask V asked Angelica of Max. But 
Max answered that his name was for the present a 
mystery. 

" ' Is he noble V said the scornful lady. 

" * Did he not come hither with me and the prince ; 
and am I in the habit of consorting with other than 
nobles V replied Max, as haughty as she. ' The mask is 
a nobleman, ay, and a soldier, who has done more exe- 
cution in his time than any man in the army.' That he 
was rich was very clear ; his purse was well filled ; 
whether he lost or won, he laughed with easy gaiety ; 
and Angelica could see under his mask how all the time 
of the play his fierce, brilliant eyes watched and shone 
on her. 

" She and Max. who played against the stranger, 
won from him a considerable sum. ' I would lose such 
a sum,' said he, ' every night, if you, fair lady, would 
but promise to win it from me ;' and, asking for, and 
having been promised, a revenge, he gallantly took his 
leave. 

" He came the next night, and the partners against 
him had the same good luck ; a third and a fourth 
night Angelica received him, and, as she won always, 
and as he was gay at losing as another is at winning, 
and was always ready to laugh and joke with her father, 
or to utter compliments to herself, Angelica began to 
think the stranger one of the most agreeable of men. 

" She began to grudge, too, to Max some of his 



262 men's wives. 



winnings ; or, rather, she was angry both that he should 
win and that he should not win enough : for Max would 
stop playing in the midst, as it seemed, of a vein of good 
luck ; saying that enough was won and lost for the 
night ; that play was the amusement of gentlemen, not 
their passion nor means of gain : whereon the mask 
would gather up his crowns ; and greatly to the an- 
noyance of Angelica, the play would cease. 

" * If I could play with him alone,' thought she, 
* there is no end to the sums which I might win of this 
stranger ; and money we want, Heaven knows ; for my 
father's pay is mortgaged thrice over to the Jews, and 
we owe ten times as much as we can pay.' 

" She found no great difficulty in managing an in- 
terview with the stranger alone. He was always will- 
ing, he said, to be at her side ; and Max being called at 
this time into the country, the pair met by themselves, 
or in the company of the tipsy old governor of Udolf, 
who counted for no more than an extra flagon in the 
room, and who would have let his daughter play for a 
million, or sit down to a match with the foul fiend him- 
self, were she so minded ; and here the mask and An- 
gelica used to pass many long evenings together. 

" But her lust of gain was properly punished ; for 
when Max was gone, instead of winning, as she had 
been wont to do in his company, Fortune seemed now 
to desert her, and she lost night after night. Nor was 
the mask one of the sort of players who could be paid 
off by a smile, as some gallants had been ; or who would 
take a ringlet as a receipt for a hundred crowns ; or 
would play on credit, as Angelica would have done, had 
he been willing. * Fair lady,' said he, i I am too old a 






THE 's WIFE. 263 

soldier to play my ducats against smiles, though they 
be from the loveliest lips in the world ; that which I 
lose I pay ; that which I win I take. Such is always 
the way with us in camp ; and ' donner und blitz P that 
is the way I like best.' So the day Angelica proposed 
to play him on credit he put up his purse, and laughing 
took his leave. The next day she pawned a jewel, and 
engaged him again ; and, in sooth, he went off laugh- 
ing, as usual, his loud laugh, with the price of the 
emerald in his pocket. 

" When they were alone, it must be said that the 
mask made no difficulty to withdraw his vizard, and 
showed a handsome, pale, wild face ; with black, glaring 
eyes ; sharp teeth, and black hair and beard. "When 
asked what he should be called, he said, ' Call me 
Wolfgang ; but, hist ! I am in the imperial service. The 
duke would seize me were he to know that I was here ; 
for,' added he, with a horrid grin, ' I slew a dear friend 
of his in battle.' He always grinned, did Herr Wolf- 
gang ; he laughed a hundred times a-day, ay, and drank 
much, and swore more. There was something terrible 
about him ; and he loved to tell terrible stories of the 
wars, in which he could match for horror and cruelty 
Col. Dolchenblitz himself. 

" ' This is the man I would have for thy husband, 
girl,' said he to his daughter; ; he is a thousand times 
better than your puling courtiers and pale book-worms ; 
a fellow that can drink his bottle, and does not fear the 
devil himself; and can use his sword to carve out for 
himself any fortune to which he may be minded. Thou 
art but a child to him in play. See how he takes your 
ducats from you, and makes the dice obey him. Cease 



264 men's wives. 



playing with him, girl, or he will ruin us else ; and so 
fill me another cup of wine.' 

" It was in the bottom of the flagon that the last 
words of the old man's speeches used commonly to end ; 
and I am not sure that Angelica was not prepared to 
think the advice given a very good one ; for it w r as in 
the nature of this lovely girl to care for no man. But it 
seemed to her, that in daring and wickedness this man 
was a match for her ; and she only sighed that he 
should be noble and rich enough, and that then she 
might make him her own. For he dazzled her imagi- 
nation with stories of great leaders of the day, the hon- 
ours they won, and the wealth they obtained. l Think 
of Wallenstein,' said he, ' but a humble page in a lady's 
house ; a prince now, and almost a sovereign. Tilly 
was but a portionless Flemish cadet ; and think of the 
plunder of Magdeburg.' 

" c I wish I had shared it,' said Angelica. 

" 4 What ! and your father a Protestant V 

" ' Psha !' replied the girl. At which Herr Wolf- 
gang and her father would burst into a hoarse laugh, 
and swear with loud oaths, that she deserved to be a 
queen ; and would so drink her grace's health in many 
a bumper. And then they would fall to the dice 
again ; and Signor Wolfgang would win the last crown- 
piece in the purse of either father or daughter, and at 
midnight would take his leave. And a wonder was, that 
no one knew whence he came or how he left the castle ; 
for the sentry at the gate never saw him pass or enter. 

"He would laugh when asked how. 'Psha!' he 
would say, ' I am all mystery ; and I will tell as a se- 
cret, that when I come or go I turn myself into a bird, 
and fly in and out.' 



THE 's WIFE. 265 

"And so, though he could not write his name, and 
had no more manners than a trooper, and though he 
won every penny of Angelica's money from her, the 
girl had a greater respect and terror for him than for any 
man alive ; and he made more way in her heart in a 
fortnight than many a sighing lover would do in ten 
years. 

"Presently, Max returned from his visit to the 
country; and Angelica began to make comparisons 
between his calm, cold, stately, sneering manner, and 
the honest daring of Herr Wolfgang his friend. ' It 
is a pity,' thought she, i that he should have the fine 
estate who could live on a book and a crust. If Herr 
Wolfgang had Max's wealth, he would spend it like a 
prince, and his wife would be the first lady in Germany.' 

" Max came to invite Angelica to his castle of Wald- 
berg ; it was prepared to receive her as to receive a 
sovereign. She had never seen any thing more stately 
than the gardens, or more costly than the furniture ; 
and the lackeys in Max's livery were more numerous 
and more splendid than those who waited on the duke 
himself. He took her over his farms and villages ; it 
was a two days' journey. He showed her his stores of 
plate, and his cellars, the innumerable horses in his 
stables, and flocks and cattle in his fields. As she saw 
all these treasures, her heart grew colder towards Wolf- 
gang ; and she began to think that Max would be a 
better husband for her. But Herr Wolfgang did not 
seem much cast down, though she bestowed scarce a 
word upon him all day. 

" 4 Would you take these lands and their lord, lady 
12 



266 men's wives. 



fair V whispered Max to Angelica, as they were riding 
home. 

" ' That would I !' cried she, smiling in triumph ; 
and holding out her hand to Max, who kissing it very 
respectfully, never quitted her side that day. 

" She had now only frowns for Herr Wolfgang, to 
whom she had been so gracious hitherto ; and at supper 
that day, or at play afterwards, she scarce deigned to 
say a word to him. But he laughed, and shouted, and 
drank his wine as before. They played deep ; but Max, 
the most magnificent of hosts, had always a casket filled 
with gold by the side of Angelica ; who, therefore, little 
cared to lose. 

" The next day she spent in going over the treasury 
of the castle, and the various chambers in it. There 
was one room which they passed but did not enter. 
'That was Ernst's room,' said Max, looking very 
gloomy. ' My lord, what a frown !' said Angelica ; 
4 can I bear a husband who frowns so ?' and quickly 
passed into another chamber. At the end of the day 
came the dice as usual. Angelica could not live with- 
out them. They played, and Herr Wolfang lost a very 
heavy sum, 5000 crowns. But he laughed, and bade 
Max make out an order on his intendant, and signed it 
with his name. 

" ' I can write no more than that,' said he ; ' but 
'tis enough for a gentleman. To-morrow, Sir Max, you 
will give me my revenge V 

" ' To-morrow,' said Max, i I will promise not to 
balk you, and will play for any stake you will.' And 
so they parted. 

"The day after many lords and ladies began to 



THE 's WIFE. 267 

arrive, and in the evening, to supper, came over from a 
hunting-lodge he had in the neighbourhood, his high- 
ness the hereditary prince, and his princess, who were 
served at a table alone, Max waiting on them. c When 
this castle is mine,' said Angelica, ' i" will be princess 
liere, and my husband shall act the lacquey to no duke 
in Christendom.' 

" Dice and music were called as usual. i Will your 
highness dance or play V But his highness preferred 
dancing, as he was young and active ; and her highness 
preferred dancing too, for she was crooked and out of 
shape. The prince led out the Lady Angelica ; she 
had never looked more beautiful, and swam through 
the dance in a royal style indeed. 

" As they were dancing, people came to say, ' The 
Lord Max and Herr Wolfgang are at the dice, playing 
very heavy stakes.' And so it was ; and Angelica, who 
was as eager for play as a Turk for opium, went 
presently to look at the players, around whom was 
already a crowd wondering. 

"But much as she loved play, Angelica was fright- 
ened at the stakes played by Max and Wolfgang ; for 
moderate as the Lord Max had been abroad, at home it 
seemed to be a point of honour with him to be magnificent, 
and he said he would refuse no stake that was offered 
to him. 

"'Three throws for 10,000 crowns,' said Wolfgang. 

' Make out an order for my intendant if I lose, and 
I will sign it with my mark.' 

"'Three throws for 10,000 crowns! — Done!' 
answered Max. He lost. l The order, Herr Wolfgang, 
must be on my intendant now, and your Austrian 
woods will not have to suffer. Give me my revenge.' 



268 men's wives. 



" ' Twenty thousand crowns against your farm and 
woods of Avenbach.' 

" ' They are worth only eighteen, but I said I would 
refuse you nothing, and cry done ! Max tossed, and 
lost the woods of Avenbach. 

" ' Have you not played enough, my lords, for to- 
day V said Angelica, somewhat frightened. 

" i ISTo !' shouted Wolfgang, with his roaring laugh. 
'No! in the devil's name, let us go on. I feel myself 
in the vein, and have Lord Max's word that he will 
take any bet of mine. I will play you 20,000 crowns 
and your farm — my farm — against your barony and 
village Weinheim.' 

" ' Lord Max, I entreat — I command you not to 
play !' cried Angelica. 

u ' Done !' said Max. ' Weinheim against the crowns 
and the farm.' He lost again. 

" In an hour this unhappy gentleman lost all the 
property that his forefathers had been gathering for 
centuries ; his houses and lands, his cattle and horses, 
his plate, arms, and furniture. Laughing and shouting, 
Wolfgang still pressed him. 

" ' I have no more,' said Max, ' you have my all ; — 
but stay,' said he, ; I have one thing more. Here is 
my bride, the Lady Angelica.' 

K ' A hundred thousand crowns against her !' 
shouted Wolfgang. 

" ' Fool !' said Angelica, turning scornfully on Max, 
4 do you think I will marry a beggar ? I said I would 
take the lord of these lands,' added she, blushing, and 
gazing on Wolfgang. 

" ' He is at your feet, lady,' said Wolfgang, going 



THE 's WIFE. 269 

down on his knee, and the prince at this moment 
coming into the room, Max said bitterly, c I brought 
you, my lord, to be present at a marriage, and a mar- 
riage there shall be. Here is the lord of Waldberg who 
weds the lady Angelica.' 

" ' Ho ! a chaplain — a chaplain !' called the prince : 
and there was one at hand, and before almost Angelica 
could say ' yea' or ' nay,' she was given away to Herr 
Wolfgang, and the service was read, and the contract 
signed by the witnesses, and all the guests came to 
congratulate her. 

" ' As the friend of poor, dead Ernst,' said the prince, 
1 1 thank you for not marrying Max.' 

" ' The hump-backed Venus congratulates you,' said 
the princess, with a curtesy and a sneer. 

" 'I have lost all, but have still a marriage-present 
to make to the Lady Angelica,' said Max ; and he held 
out a gold casket, which she took. It was that one in 
which Ernst had kept her hair, and which he had worn 
at his death. 

" Angelica flung down the casket in a rage." 

" Am I to be insulted in my own castle,' she said, 
and on my own marriage-day ? Prince — Princess — 
Max of Waldberg — beggar of Waldberg, I despise and 
scorn you all ! When it will please you to leave this 
house, you are welcome. Its doors will gladly open to 
let you out. My Lord Wolfgang, I must trust to your 
sword to revenge any insults that may be passed on a 
woman who is too weak to defend herself.' 

"' Any who insults you insults me,' said Wolfgang, 
at which the prince burst into a laugh. 

" i Coward !' said Angelica, ' your princedom saves 



270 men's wives. 



your manhood. In an y other country but your own 
you would not dare to act as you do.' And so saying, 
and looking as fierce as a boar at bay, glaring round at 
the circle of staring courtiers, and forgetting her doubts 
and fears in her courage and hatred, she left the room 
on Wolfgang's arm. 

" 'It is a gallant woman, by heaven !' said the 
prince. 

" The old governor of Udolf had not been present at 
the festival, which had ended so unluckily for the feast- 
giver, Herr Max, and in Angelica's sudden marriage. 
Certain Anabaptist rogues, who had been making a 
disturbance in the duchy, had been taken prisoners of 
late, and after having been tortured and racked for some 
six months, had been sentenced to death, as became the 
dogs ; and, meanwhile, until their execution, were kept, 
with more than ordinary precautions, in Castle Udolf, 
for many of their people were still in the country, and 
thoughts of a rescue apprehended. The day, at last, 
was fixed for their death, — some three days after the 
sudden wedding of the Lady Angelica. 

" In those three days she had ridden again over the 
farms and orchards ; she had examined all the treasures 
and furnitures of her castles once more. At night she 
feasted with her spouse, sitting at the high table which 
poor Max had prepared for the prince and princess, and 
causing the servants and pages to serve her upon bended 
knees. 

" i Why do these menials look so cold upon their 
mistress and lord ?' asked she. 

" t Marry,' said Wolfgang, i the poor devils have 
served the Waldberg family since they were born, they 
are only the more faithful for their sorrow.' 



lliE J s WIFE. 271 

" ' 1 will have yonder old scowling seneschal scourg- 
ed by the huntsmen to-morrow,' said Angelica. 

" ' Do ! ' said Wolfgang, laughing wildly ; ' it will be 
an amusement to you, for you will be alone all to- 
morrow, sweet Angelica.' 

" ' And why alone, sir ?' said she. 

"'lam called to the city on urgent business.' 

" { And what is the business which calls you away 
alone ?' 

"Her husband would not say. He said it was a 
state secret, which did not concern women. She replied 
she was no child, and would know it. He only laughed, 
and laughed louder as she burst into a fury ; and when 
she became quite white with rage, and clenched her 
little fists, and ground her teeth, and grasped at the 
knife she wore in her girdle, he lashed the knife out of 
her hand with a cut of his riding rod, and bade her 
women carry her away. ' Look to my lady,' said he, 
' and never leave her. Her mother was mad, and she 
has a touch of the malady.' And so he left her, and 
was off by break of day. 

" At break of day Angelica was up too ; and no 
sooner had her husband's horses left the court-yard of 
the castle, than she called for her own, and rode towards 
the city in the direction in which he had gone. Great 
crowds of people were advancing towards the town, and 
she remembered, for the first time, that an execution 
was about to take place. There had not been one for 
seven years, so peaceable was our country then ; there 
was not even an executioner in the duke's service, for 
the old man had died, and no other had been found to 
take his place. ! I will see this at any rate,' said An- 



272 

gelica ; for an execution was her delight, and she re- 
membered every circumstance of the last with the ut- 
most accuracy. 

" As she was spurring onwards she overtook a com- 
pany of horsemen. It was the young prince and his 
suite, among whom was riding Lord Max, who took off 
his cap and saluted her. 

" 'Make way for the Lady Angelica !' cried one. 

" ' Health to the blushing bride !' said the prince. 
* What, so soon tired of billing and cooing at Wald- 
berg ? ' 

" [ I hope your grace found the beds soft and the 
servants obedient,' said Max. * They had my parting 
instructions.' 

" 4 They had the instructions of their own mistress,' 
replied Angelica ; i I pray you let me pass on to my 
husband, the Lord Wolfgang.' 

" '■ The Lord Wolfgang will be with you anon,' said 
the prince. * We were here on the watch for you and 
him, and to pay our devoirs to the loveliest of brides.' 

" * An execution is just such a festival as becomes 
your ladyship. Make way there ! Place for the lady 
Angelica ! Here is the gallery from which you can see 
the whole ceremony. The people will be here anon.' 
And almost in spite of herself, Angelica was led up into 
a scaffold from which the dismal preparations of the 
death-scene were quite visible. 

" Presently the trumpets blew from Udolf. The 
men at arms and their victims came winding down the 
hills. Old Dolchenblitz leading the procession armed, 
on his grey charger. i Look at the victims,' said some 
one by Angelica's side, i they are as calm as if they were 



THE 's WIFE. 273 

going to a feast.' * See, here comes the masked execu- 
tioner,' said another, ' who bought his life upon these 
terms.' 

" ' He is a noble,' whispered Max to Angelica, c and 
he is the greatest swordsman in Europe? Angelica did 
not reply, but trembled very much. 

" Singing their psalms, the Anabaptists mounted the 
scaffold. The first took his place in the chair, and the 
executioner did his terrible work. c Here is the head of 
a traitor,' said the executioner. 

" ' You recognise your husband's voice, noble lady 
Angelica] said Max. 

" She gave a loud scream and fell down as if shot. 
The people were too much excited by the spectacle to 
listen to her scream. The rest of the executions went 
on; but of these she saw nothing. She was carried 
home to Udolf raving mad. And so it was that Max of 
Waldberg revenged his brother's death. They say he 
was never the same man afterwards, and repented bitter- 
ly of his severity ; but the Princess Ulrica Amelia So- 
phonisba Jaquelina vowed that the punishment was not 
a whit too severe for the traitress who had dared to call 
her the hump-backed Venus. I have shortened as far 
as possible the horrors of the denouement of this dismal 
drama. The executioner returned to Vienna with a 
thousand crowns and all he had won of Angelica in 
private. Max gave the father and Jiis unhappy daughter 
a pension for their lives ; but he never married himself, 
and his estates passed away into another branch of our 
family." 



\%* 



274 men's wives. 



" What, are you connected with him, Milchbrod ?" 
said T, " and is the story true f ' 

" True. The execution took place on the very spot 
where you are lying." 

I jumped up rather nervously. And here you have 
the story of the " Brother's Revenge ; or, the Execu- 
tioner's wife." 



THE END, 



APPLETONS' POPULAR LIBRARY. 



Now Ready. 

ESSAYS FROM THE LONDON TIMES ; A Collection of Per- 
sonal and Historical Sketches. 50 cts. 

THE YELLO WPLUSH PAPERS. By W. M. Thackeray. 50c. 

THE MAIDEN AND MARRIED LIFE OF MARY POWELL: 
afterwards Mrs. Milton. 50 cts. 

A JOURNEY THROUGH TARTARY, THIBET, AND CHINA. 
By M. Hue. 2 vols. $1. 

THE PARIS SKETCH BOOK. By W. M. Thackeray. 2 vols. $1. 

GAIETIES AND GRAVITIES. By Horace Smith, one of the 

Authors of the " Rejected Addresses." 50 cts. 

THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS. By Barham. 50 eta. 
PAPERS FROM THE QUARTERLY REVIEW. 50 cts. 

LITTLE PEDLINGTON AND THE PEDLINGTONIANS. 

By the Author of " Paul Pry." 2 vols. $1. 

A JOURNEY TO KATMANDU ; OR, THE NEPAULESE 
AMBASSADOR AT HOME. By Laweence Olyphant. 50 cts. 

THE BOOK OF SNOBS. By W, M. Thackeray. 50 cts. 

A BOOK FOR SUMMER TIME IN THE COUNTRY. By the 
Rev. R. A. Willmott. 50 cts. 

STORIES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 50 cts. 

MEN'S WIVES. By W. M. Thackeray. 50 cts. 

LIVES OF WELLINGTON AND PEEL. 50 cts. 

ESSAYS FROM THE LONDON TIMES. Second Series. 50 cts. 

A SHABBY GENTEEL STORY, And several Sketches. By 
W. M. Thackeray. 50 cts. 



Nearly Ready. 

THE MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS OF THACKERAY. 

THEODORE HOOK'S LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS. 

A NEW VOLUME OF PAPERS FROM THE QUARTERLY 
REVIEW, &c. 



ADVERTISEMENTS. 



APPLETONS' POPULAR LIBRARY. 

ESSAYS FROM THE LONDON TIMES. 

Price Fifty Cents, 
Containing the following Papers: 

LOED NELSON AND LADY HAMILTON. 

BALLWAY NOVELS. 

LOUIS PHILIPPE AND HIS FAMILY. 

DEAMA OF THE FEENOH EEVOLTTTION. 

HOWAED THE PHTLANTHEOPIST. 

EOBEET SOUTHEY. 

THE AMOTJES OF DEAN SWIFT. 

EEM2NIS0EN0ES OF OOLEBIDGE AND SOTJTHEY BY OOTTLB, 

JOHN KEATS. 

SPOBTING- IN AFEIOA. 

FEANOIS OHANTEEY. 

ANCIENT EGYPT. 

Brilliant original Essays, frequently displaying the neat humor of a 
Sydney Smith, the glowing narrative sweep of a Macaulay. These Essays 
exhibit a variety of treatment, and are models of their class. The sketch 
of the French Eevolution of 1848, and the paper on the Amours of Dean 
Swift, are masterpieces in their different ways ; the one as a forcibly painted 
picturesque panorama of startling events, the other as a subtle investigation 
of character. The story of Lord Nelson's Lady Hamilton is an example of 
pathos, where the interest grows out of a clear, firmly presented statement 
The paper on Egypt is an admirable resume" of the results of Antiquarian 
study in a style at once learned and popular. 



ADVERTISEMENTS. 



APPLETONS' POPTJLAR UBRABY. 

THE MAIDEN AND MARRIED LIFE OF 
MARY POWELL, 

AFTERWARDS MISTRESS MILTON. 
Price Fifty Cents 

"A reproduction "in their manners as they lived" of John Milton and 
his young bride, of whom the anecdote of their separation and reconcilia- 
tion is told in Dr. Johnson's biography of the poet The narrative is in the 
style of the period as the Diary of Lady "Willonghby is written, and is re- 
markable for its feminine grace and character — and the interest of real life 
artistically disposed : a book for the selected shelf of the lady's boudoir in 
its touches of nature and sentiment no less than as a study of one of Eng- 
land's greatest poets " at home." 

ENGLISH NOTICES. 

"This is a charming book ; and whether we regard its subject, clever- 
ness., or delicacy of sentiment and expression, it is likely to be a most ac- 
ceptable present to young or old, be their peculiar taste for religion, morals, 
poetry, history, or romance." — Christian Observer. 

" Unquestionably the production of an able hand, and a refined mind. 
We recommend it to all who love pure, healthy literary fare."— Church 
and State Gazette. 

"Full of incident and character, and exceedingly delightful in its happy 
iketching and freshness of feeling. It is by far the best work of the small 
tnd novel class to which it belongs, a mixture of truth and fiction in a form 
which belongs to the fictitious more than to the substantial contents,"— 
NonconforrnAst. 

" The odd history of Milton's first marriage— the desertion of his wife, 
and her subsequent terror when she heard that he was just the man to put 
In practice his own opinions respecting divorce — forms on© of (hoot chap- 
ters, peculiarly open to illustration and fancy."— Altai. 



ADVERTISEMENTS. 



APPLETONS' POPULAR LIBRARY. 
GAIETIES AND GRAVITIES. 

BY HORACE SMITH, ONE OF THE AUTHORS OF THE 
" REJECTED ADDRESSES." 

Price Fifty Cents. 

ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BELZONfS EXHIBITION. 

WINTER. 

ON PUNS AND PUNSTERS. 

MY TEA-KETTLE. 

THE WIDOW OF THE GREAT ARMY. 

ON NOSES. 

WALKS IN THE GARDEN. 

CORONATION EXTRAORDINARY. 

THE ORANGE TREE AT VERSAILLES, 

ON LIPS AND KISSING. 

TO A LOG OF WOOD UPON THE FIRE. 

MISS HEBE HIGGLNS'S ACCOUNT OF A LITERARY SOCIETY — IBM 

HOUNDSDITCH ALBUM. 
ANTE AND POST NUPTIAL JOURNAL. 
THE LIBRARY. 
UGLY WOMEN. 
THE WORLD. 
THE FIRST OF MARCH. 
THE ELOQUENCE OF EYES. 
ADDRESS TO THE ALABASTER SARCOPHAGUS DEPOSITED IN THE BBH> 

ISH MUSEUM. 
MEMOLRS OF A HAUNCH OF MUTTON. 

BEGGARS EXTRAORDINARY! PROPOSALS FOR THEIR SUPPRESSION. 
STANZAS TO PUNCHINELLO. 

LETTERS TO THE ROYAL LITERARY SOCIETY. 
A LAMENTATION ON THE DECLINE OF BARBERS. 
CHANCES OF FEMALE HAPPINESS. 
THE STEAMBOAT FROM LONDON TO CALAIS. 
memnon's HEAD. 
WOMEN VINDICATED. 
tfCfcTHAIT OF A SEPTUAGENARY. 



ADVERTISEMENTS. 






APPLETONS' POPULAK UBRAHY. 

THE PARIS SKETCH BOOK. 

BY W. M. THACKERAY. 

Two Volumes. Price Fifty Cents each. 

<&fintmtg of Vol. 3E. 

AN INVASION OF FRANCE. 

A CAUTION TO TRAVELLERS. 

THE FETES OF JULY. 

ON THE FRENCH SCHOOL OF PAINTING. 

THE PAINTER'S BARGAIN. 

CARTOUCHE. 

ON SOME FRENCH FASHIONABLE NOVELS. 

A gambler's DEATH. 

NAPOLEON AND HIS SYSTEM. 
THE STORY OF MARY ANOEL. 
BEATRICE MERGER. 

Contents of Vol. IX. 

CARICATURES AND LITHOGRAPHY IN PARIS. 

LITTLE POINSLNET. 

THE DEVIL'S WAGER. 

MADAME SAND AND THE NEW APOCALYPSE. 

THE CASE OF PEYTEL. 

IMITATIONS OF BERANGEE. 

FRENCH DRAMAS AND MELODRAMAS. 

MEDITATIONS AT VERSAILLES. 

The papers of which these volumes consist are in number nineteen, 
and in character very miscellaneous. In most of them wit and humor are 
the prevailing features, but all of them display a keen sense of the ridicu- 
lous and a hostility to humbug, a penetrating insight into the wheels by 
which men and the mixed world around the author are moved, and a 
thorough dislike to the foibles and vices he hesitates not to laflh and ex- 
ptf»J.— Londdn Literary Gazette. 



ADVERTISEMENTS. 



APPLETONS' POPULAR LIBRARY. 

RECOLLECTIONS OF A JOURISTEY THROUGH 

TARTARY, THIBET, AND CHINA, DURING 

THE YEARS 1844, 1845, and 1846. 

BY M. HUC, MISSIONARY PRIEST OF THE CONGREGATION 
OF ST. LAZARUS. 

A CONDENSED TRANSLATION BY MBS, PEBCY SINNETT. 

Two Volumes, 16mo., Fancy Cloth. Price Fifty Cents each 

This narrative, related with great interest and simplicity— adding to ou\ 
original stores of information with the piqnancy of an Arabian Tale— is th« 
story of a long journey and circuit of Chinese Tartary to the capital of Thi- 
bet, with a forced return to the Chinese Territory, performed by a Roman 
Catholic Missionary, and his assistant M. Gabet, delegated, upon the break 
tag up of the Pekin Mission, to the exploration of what is rather hypotheti 
cally called the Apostolical Yicariat of Mongolia. On their route every 
where is novelty, danger and excitement— fresh scenery, fresh adventure, 
with religious rites and manners and customs, now for the first time so folly 
described, and which, it may be remarked, at times appeal net merely to 
our love of intelligence, but to our love of the marvellous. 

The English Review speaks of " M. Hue's graphic pages" and remarks, 
" the labours of Messrs Hue and Gabet have extended very considerably 
the existing amount of knowledge of those remote regions of inner Asia." 

BlackwoocCs Magazine, summing up the results of those and other re- 
searches in an article "Tibet and the Lamas," says of these missionaries— 
"they have given us a most readable and interesting personal narrative of a 
life of continued hardships, and of frequent suffering and danger in remote 
regions, the routes through which were partly never before recorded in de- 
tail, and partly never before trodden by any European." 

The London Daily ITews pronounces M. Hue " a most agreeable narra* 
tot. We give our readers a specimen of this really charming book, thougn 
it is one which most of our readers will be sure to purchase and treasure up 
Ibr themselves. "We could fill columns with amusing extracts, but it is best 
to send our readers to the book iteelf. 



ADVERTISEMENTS. 



APPLETONS' POPULAR LIBRARY. 

THE YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS. 

BY W. M. THACKERAY. 

Price Fifty Cents. 

<&KTdtXlt8. 

MISS SHUM's HUSBAND. 

THE AMOURS OF MR. DETTCEACE. 

SKIMMINGS FROM " THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IT." 

FORING PARTS. 

MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 

MR. YELLOWPLUSH's AJEW. 

EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. 

The Yellowplush Papers, a work at the foundation of Mr. Thackeray s 
feme as a writer, appeared in a London edition in 1841, collected from the 
pages of Fraser's Magazine. An imperfect collection, long since out of 
print, had previously been published in Philadelphia. 

It is now revived, in connection with a number of the author's miscel- 
laneous Writings, which will appear in due succession, for its speciality of 
thought and character, and its exhibition of those fruitful germs of senti- 
ment and observation which have expanded into the pictures of modern 
society, read throughout the world, in the pages of " Vanity Fair" and 
"Pendennis." In its peculiar line the Yellowplush Papers have nevei 
been surpassed. The character is well preserved and unique as the spell- 
ing, which shows that there is a genius even for cacography, and a senti- 
ment as well as a hearty laugh in a wrong combination of letters. It is im- 
possible to resist the infelicity of Mr. Yellowplush. His humor, too, is a 
pretty serious test of the ways of the world, and profit, as well as amuse- 
ment, may be got from his epistles, justifying the remark of an English 
critic, that "notwithstanding the bad spelling and mustard-colored un- 
mentionables of Mr. Yellowplush, he is fifty times more of a gentleman 
than most of his masters." 



D. Appleton & Company s Publications. 

KELIGXOUS. 

ARNOLD'S Rugby School Sermons. 16mo. 50 cents. 
ANTHON'S Catechism on the Homilies. 18mo. 6 cents. 

Early Catechism for Young Children. 18nio. 6 cents. 

A. KEMPIS, Of the Imitation of Christ. 16mo. Complete Edition. 75 et& 
BURNETT'S History of the Reformation. Edited by Dr. Nares. 8 

vols. $2 50. 

On the Thirty-nine Articles. Edited by Page. 8vo. $2. 

BRADLEY'S Family and Parish Sermons. Complete in 1 vol. $2. 

OR UD EN'S Concordance to the New Testament. 12mo. 50 cents. 

COTTER. The Romish Mass and Rubrics. Translated. 18mo. 38 cts 

COIT, Dr. Puritanism Reviewed. 12mo. $1. 

EVANS' Rectory of Valehead. 16mo. 50 cents. 

LIGHT IN THE DWELLING. (A Practical Family Commentary on the 

Four Gospels.) By the author of " Peep of Day." Edited by Dr. Tyng. illustrated. 
8vo. Cloth, $2 ; gtlt edgea, $-2 50 ; im. morooco, $3 50 ; morocco, $4 50. 

GRESLEY'S Portrait ot an English Churchman. 50 cents. 

Treatise on Preaching. 12mo. $1 25. 

GRIFFIN, G. The Gcspel its own Advocate. 12mo. $1. 

HOOKER'S Complete Works. Edited by Keble. 2 vols. $4 50. 

IVES' (Bishop) Sermor.s. 16mo. 50 cents. 

JAMES' Happiness; its Nature and Sources. 

JARVIS' Reply to Milker's End of Controversy. 12mo. 75 cents. 

KINSGLEY'S Sacred Choir. 75 cents. 

KIP'S Early Conflicts of Christianity. 12mo. 75 cents. 

LYRA APOSTOLICA. 13mo. 50 cents. 

MARSHALL'S Notes on Episcopacy. Edited by Wainwright. 12mo. $1 

MANNING on the Unity of the Church. 16mo. 75 cents. 

MAURICE on the Kingdom of Christ. 8vo. $2 50. 

MAGEE on Atonement and Sacrifice. 2 vols., 8vo. $5. 

NEWMAN'S Sermons on Subjects of the Day. 12mo. $1. 

Essay on Christian Doctrine. 8vo. Cloth, 75 cents. 

OGILBY on Lay Baptism. 12mo. 50 cents. 

PEARSON on the Creed. Edited by Dobson. Best Edition. 8vo. $2. 

PULPIT CYCLOPAEDIA AND MINISTER'S COMPANION. 8vo. 

600 pages. $2 50. 

PSALTER (The), or Psalms of David. Pointed for Chanting. Edited bj 

Dr. Muhlenberg. 12mo. Sheep, 50 cents ; half cloth, 38 cents. 

SEWELL. Readings for Every Day in Lent. 12mo. Cloth, 75 cents. 
SOUTHARD. " The Mysteries of Godliness." 8vo. 75 cents. 
SKETCHES AND SKELETONS OF 500 SERMONS. By the Author c 

" The Pulpit Cyclopaedia." 8vo. $2 50. 
SPENCER'S Christian Instructed. 16mo. $1. 
SHERLOCK'S Practical Christian. 16mo. 75 cents. 
SPINCKE'S Manual of Private Devotion. 16mo. 75 cents. 
SUTTON'S Disce Vivere, Learn to Live. 16mo. 75 cents. 
SWARTZ'S Letters to My Godchild. 32mo. Gilt edge, 38 cents. 
TRENCH'S Notes on the Parables. 8vo. $1 75. 

Notes en the Miracles of our Lord. 8vo. $1 75. 

TAYLOR'S Holy Living and Dying. 12mo. $1. 

Episcopacy Asserted and Maintained. 16mo. 

WATSON'S Lecture on Confirmation. ISmo. Paper, 6 cents. 
WILBERFORCE'S Manual for Communicants. 32mo. Gilt edges, 38 eta 
WILSON'S Lectures on Colossians. 12mo. 75 cents. 

Sacra Privata. Complete Edition. 16mo. 75 cents. 

. Sacra Privata. 48mo. Cloth, 37 cents ; roan, 50 cents. 

WHISTON'S Constitution of the Holy Apostles, including the Canoal 

1 ranslated by Dr. Chase. 8vo. $2 50. 

WYATT's Christian Altar. New Edition. 32mo. Cloth, gilt edges, 88 *tf 



Appfeton & Company's Publications. 



SCIENTIFIC WORKS. 

APPLETON. Dictionary of Mechanics, Machines, Engine Work, ant 

Engineering, containing over 4000 Illustrations, and nearly 2000 page*. Complete in \ 
Vols., large 8vo. Strongly and neatly bound, $12. 

APPLETON. Mechanics 1 Magazine and Engineers' Journal. Edited bj 

Julius \V. Adams, C. E. Published monthly, i£ ^ents per No., or $3 p^r annum. Vol. I 
W 1851, in cloth, $3 50. 

ARCHITECTURE AND BUILDING, Treatises on. By Hoskin^, Tred- 

good, and Young. Illustrated with 36 steel plates. 4to. $3 50. 

ALLEN, Z. Philosophy of the Mechanics of Nature. Illus. Svo. $8 50 
ARNOT, D. H. Gothic Architecture, Applied to Modern Residence. 4A 

Plates. lVol.,4to. $4. 

ARTISAN CLUB. Treatise on the Steam Engine. Edited by J. Bournf, 

33 Plates, and 349 Engravings on wood. 4to. $6. 

BOURNE, JOHN. A Catechism of the Steam Engine. 16mo. 75 ots. 
BYRNE, O. New Method of Calculating Logarithms. 12mo. $1. 

BOUISSINGAULT, J. B. Rural Economy in its Relations with Chemis- 
try, Physics, and Meteorology. 12mo. $1 25. 
CULLUM, CAPT. On Military Bridges with India Rubber Pontoons, 

Illustrated. 8vo. $2. 

DOWNING, A. I. Architecture of Country Houses. Including Designs 

for Cottages, Farm Houses, and Villas; with Remarks on Interiors, Furniture, and the 
best modes of Warming and Ventilating ; with 320 Illustrations. \ Vol..8vo. $4. 

Architecture of Cottages and Farm Houses. Being the 

first part of his work on Country Houses, containing designs for Farmers, and those who 
desire to build cheap Houses. Svo. $2. 

GRIFFITHS, JOHN W. Treatise on Marine and Naval Architecture ; or, 

Theory and Practice Blended in Ship-Building. 50 Plates. $10. 

HALLECKS. Military Art and Science. 12 mo. $1 50. 

HAUPT, H. Theory of Bridge Construction. With Practical Illustra- 
tions. Svo. $3. 
HOBLYN, R. D. A Dictionary of Scientific Terms. 12mo. $1 50. 
HODGE, P. R. On the Steam Engine. 48 large Plates, folio ; and letter- 

press, 8vo. size. $8. 

JEFFERS. Theory and Practice of Naval Gunnery. Svo. Illus. $2 50. 
KNAPEN. D. M. Mechanic's Assistant, adapted for the use of Carpenters, 

Lumbermen, and Artisans generally. 12mo. $1. 

LAFEYER, M. Beauties of Modern Architecture. 48 Plates, large 8vo. $4. 
LIEBIG, JUSTUS. Familiar Letters on Chemistry. ISmo. 25 cents. 
OVERMAN, F. Metallurgy ; embracing Elements of Mining Operations, 

Analyzation ^f Ores, &c. 8vo. Illustrated. 

PARNELL, E. A. Chemistry Applied to the Arts and Manufacture*. 

Illustrated. 8vo. Cloth, $1. 

REYNOLDS, L. E. Treatise on Handrailing. Twenty Plates. Svo. $2. 
SYDNEY, J. C. Villa and Cottage Architecture. Comprising Residenoc* 

actually built. Publishing in Nob., each No. containing 3 Plates, with Ground Pla», 
price 50 cents. (To be completed in 10 Nos.) 1 to 6 ready. 

TEMPLETON, W. Mechanic, Millwright, and Engineers 1 Pocket Com 

puaiou, With American Additions. 16mo. $1. 

LTRE, DR. Die ionary of Arts, Manufactures, and Mines. New EdJtioiv 

with Supplement. 8vo. Sheep, -<5. 

Supplement to do., separate. Svo. Sheep, $1. 

YOUMAN, E, L. Class-book of Chemistry. 12mo. 75 centa 
*>— Chart of Chemistry, on Roller. $5. 

8 



D. Appleton & Company's Publications, 

ILLUSTRATED STANDARD POETS. 

AMELIA'S Poems. Beautifully Illustrated by Robert W. "Weir 
8vo. Cloth, $2 50 ; gilt edges, $3 ; imperial mor., $3 50 ; morocco, $4. 

BYRON'S Complete Poetical Works. Illustrated with elegant 
Steel Engravings and Portrait 1 vol., 8vo., fine paper. Cloth, $8 
cloth, gilt leaves, $4 ; morocco extra, $6. 

Cheaper Edition, with Portrait and 4 Plates. Im, morocco, $3; with Por- 
trait and Vignette only, sheep or cloth, $2 50. 

HALLECK'S Complete Poetical Works. Beautifully Illus- 
trated with fine Steel Engravings and a Portrait New Edition. 8va 
Cloth, $2 50 ; cloth extra, gilt edges, $3 ; morocco extra, $5. 

MOORE'S Complete Poetical Works. Illustrated with very 
fine Steel Engravings and a Portrait 1 vol., 8vo., fine paper. Cloth, 
$3 ; cloth, gilt edges, $4 ; morocco, $6. 

Cheaper Edition, with Portrait and 4 Plates. Im. morocco, $3 ; with Por- 
trait and Vignette only, sheep or cloth, $2 50. 

SOUTHEY'S Complete Poetical Works. With several beauti- 
ful Steel Engravings. 1 vol., 8vo., fine paper. Cloth, $3 ; gilt edge^ 
$4 50 ; morocco, $6 50. 

THE SACRED POETS OF ENGLAND AND AMERICA, 

for Three Centuries. Edited by Eufus W. Griswold. Illustrated with 
12 $teel Engravings. 8vo. Cloth, $2 50 ; gilt edges, $3 ; moroccf 
extra, $4 50. 

Cabinet Editions, at greatly Reduced Prices. 

BUTLER'S HUDIBRAS. With Notes by Nash. Illustrated 

with Portraits. 16mo. Cloth, $1 ; gilt edges, $1 50 ; moroc. extra, $2. 
BURNS' Complete Poetical Works. With Life, Glossary, <fec 

16mo. Cloth, illustrated, $1 ; gilt edges, $1 50 ; morocco extra, $2. 
CAMPBELL'S Complete Poetical Works. Illustrated with 

Steel Engravings and f portrait 16mo. Cloth, $1 ; gilt edges, $1 60; 

morocco extra, $2. 

COWPER'S Complete Poetical Works. With Life, <fcc. 2 voU 
in 1. Cloth, $1 ; gilt, $1 50 ; morocao extra, $2. 

DANTE'S Poems. Translated by Carey. Illustrated with e 
fine Portrait and 12 Engravings. 16mo. Cloth, $1 ; gilt edges, $1 50 
morocco extra, $2. 

HEMANS' Complete Poetical Works. Edited by her Sister 
2 vols., 16mo. With 10 Steel Plates. Cloth, $2 ; gilt edges, $8 ; m» 
rocoo extra, $4. 

MILTON'S Complete Poetical Works. With Life, Ac. 16mo. 

Cloth, illustrated, $1 ; gilt edges, $1 50 ; morocco extra, $2. 

TASSO'S Jerusalem Delivered. Translated by Wiffen. Illus- 
trated. 1 vol., 16mo. Uniform with " Dante." Cloth, $1 ; gilt edge* 
$1 50 ; morocco extra, $2. 

SCOTT'S Poetical Works. With Life, (fee. Cloth, 16mo., illus- 
trated, $1; gilt, $1 50 morocco extra, $2, 



D. Appleton <fe Company have just ready tkt 

following 

NEW WORKS FOR FAMILY READING 



MARGARET CECIL; 



Or, "I Can, because I Ought." By Cousin Kate, Author of * Sel 
about it at once," " Mary Elliott," &c. One neat volume 12mo. 



HEARTS UNVEILED: 

Or, "I knew you would like Him." By Sarah Emery Saymorb. 
One neat volume 12mo., paper cover or cloth. 

in. 

JOURNAL KEPT DURING A SUMMER 
TOUR, 

Por the Children of a Village School. By the Author of " Amy Herbert," 

u Gertrude," "Laneton Parsonage," &c, &c. In Three Parts. 

(Part I. ready.) 

WOMEN OF CHRISTIANITY. 

Exemplary for Acts of Piety and Charity. By Julia Kavanaoh, Authofl 

of " Woman in France," " Nathalie," &c. One volume 12mo., 

cloth, 75 cants. 



Recently Published. 
HOME IS ROME. 

A Domestic Tale. One volume 12mo., paper, 50 cents ; cloth, 75 eeaH. 



SUNBEAMS AND SHADOWS, 

And Buds and Blossoms; or, Leaves from Aunt Minnie's Portfolio. By 
George A. Hulse. One volume 12mo., paper, 50 cents ; cloth, 75 cents. 

vn. 

PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF 
MRS. MARGARET MAITLAND, 

W SdnnYsWv Written by Herself. One volume 12mo. , paper, GO eentt i 
cloth, 76 c 



I). AppuUn & Company's Publications. 



MISCELLANEOUS WOBKS. 



APPLETON'S Library Manual. Svo. 

Half bound, $1 25. 

■ Southern and Wes- 

tern Traveller's Guide. With colored 
Maps. 18mo. $1. 

Northern and Eastern 

Traveller's Guide. Twenty -four Maps. 
18mo. $1 25. 

New and Complete 

United States Guide-Book for Travellers. 
Numerous Maps. 18mo. $2. 

New- York City and 

Vicinity Guide. Maps. 88 cts. 

■ New- York City Map, 



<or Pocket. 12 cts. 

AGNELL'S Book of Chess. A com- 
plete Guide to the Game. With Illustra- 
tions by R. W. Weir. 12mo. $1 25. 

ANDERSON, WM. Practical Mer- 

cantile Con spondence. l k 2mo. $1. 

ARNOLD, Dr. Miscellaneous Wcrks. 

8vo. $2. 

History of Rome. 

New Edition. 1 vol., 8vo. $3. 

History of the Later 

Roman Commonwealth. 8vo. $2 50. 

Lectures on Modern 



History. Edited by Prof. Reed. $1 25. 

Life and Correspond- 
ence. By the Rev. A. P. Stanley. 2d 
Edition. 8vo. $2. 

AMELIAS Poems. 1 vol., 12mo. 

Cloth, SI '25 ; gilt edges. $1 50. 

ANSTED'S "Gold-Seeker's Manual. 

12mo. Paper, 25 cts. 

BOWEN, E. United States Post- 
office Guide. Map. 8vo. Paper, §1 ; 

cloth, $1 25. 

BROOKS' Four Months among the 

Gold-Finders in California. 25 cts. 

BRYANTS What I Saw in Califor- 
nia. With Map. 12mo. $1 25. 

BROWNELL'S Poems. 12mo. 75 c. 

CALIFORNIA Guide-Book. Em- 
bracing Fremont and Emory's Travels in 
Califo rnia . 8vo. Map. Paper, 50 cts. 

OARLYLE'S Life of Frederick Schil- 
ler. 12mo. Paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, 75 cts. 
CHAPMAN'S Instructions to Young 

Marksmen on the Improved American Rifle. 
16mo. Illustrated. SI 25. 

COOLEY, A J. The Book of Use- 
ful Knowledge. Containing 6,000 Practical 
Receipts in all branches ot Arts, Manufac- 
tureo, and Trades. Svo. Illustrated. $1 25. 

COOLEY, J. E. The American in 

Egypt. Svo. Illustrated. $2. 

COIT, Dr. History of Puritanism. 

12mo. %\. 

CORNWALL, N. E. Music as It 

Was, ana as It Is. 12mo. 63 cts. 

COUSIN'S Course of Modern Philo- 
sophy. Translated by Wight. 2 Vols., 
l&mo. $3. 



COGGESHALL'S Voyages to V* 

rious Parts of t lie World, lllus. $125. 

DON QUIXOTTE DE LA MAN- 

CHA. With 18 Steel Engravings. 16mo. 
Cloth, $1 50. 

EMORY'S Notes of Travels in Cali 

fornia. 8vo. Paper, 25 cts. 

ELLIS, Mrs. Women of England, 

12mo. 50 cts. 

Hearts and Homes ; or 



Social Distinctions. A Story. Two Parts, 
Svo. Paper, $1 ; cloth, =?1 50. 

EVELYN'S Life of Mrs. Godolphiu. 

Edited by the Bishop of Oxford. 16mo. 
Cloth, 50 cts. ; paper, 38 cts. 

FAY, T. S. Ulric; or, The Voices. 

12m^. 75 cts. 

FOSTER'S Essays on Christian Mo- 
rals. 18mo. 50 cts. 
FREMONT'S Exploring Expedition 

to Orearon and California. 25 cts. 

FROST, Prof. Travels in Africa, 

12mo. Illustrated. $1. 

FALKNER'S Farmer's Manual 

12mo. 50 cts. 

GARLAND'S Life of John Ran- 

dolph. 2 Vols., 12mo. Portraits, #2 50. 

GILFILLAN, GEO. Gallery of 

Literary Portraits. Second Series. T2mo. 
Paper, 75 cts. ; cloth, $1. 

The Bards of 



the Bible. 12mo. Cloth, 50 cts. 

GOLDSMITH'S Vicar of Wakefield 

12mo. Illustrated. 75 cts. 

GOULD, E. S. "The Very Age." 

A Comedy. ISmo. Paper, 38 cts. 

GRANT'S Memoirs of An American 

Lady. 12mo. Cloth, 75 cts. ; paper, 50 cts. 

GUIZOT'S Democracy in France. 

12mo. Paper cover, 25 c f s. 

History of Civilization. 

4 Vols. Cloth, $3 50. 

History of the English 

Revolution of 1640. Cloth, $1 25. 

HULL, Gen. Civil and Military 

Life. Edited by J. F. Clarke. Svo. $2. 

HOBSON. My Uncle Hobson and I. 

12mo. 75 cts. 

GOETHE'S IPHIGENIA IN TAU 

RIS. A Drama in Five Acts. From the 
German by G. J. Adler. 12mo. 15 cts. 

KAVANAGH, JULIA. Women of 

Christianity, exemplary for Piety and Cha- 
rity. 12mo. Cloth, 7 5 cts. 

BENNY'S Manual of Chess. 18tjk< 

3S cent*. 

KOHLRAUSCH'S Complete History 

of Germany. 8vo. $1 50. 

KIP'S Christmas Holidays at Rom* 

12mo. $1. 

LAMB, CHAS. Final Memorial 

Edited by Talfourd. 12mc 75 eta. 

LAMARTLNE'S Confidential DJ* 

cloture! ; or. M«raoirs of Mv Youth. 50 * 



D Apphion 6: Company's Vindications. 



MISCELLANEOUS WORKS-Continued. 



LEE, E. B. Life of Jean Paul F. 

Richter. 12mo. $1 25. 

LEGERS History of Animal Mag- 
netism. 12mo. $1. 

LETTERS FROM THREE CON- 
TINENTS. Bv R. M. Ward. ISmo. 
Cloth, $1. 

LORD, W. W. Poems. 12mo. 75 c. 
Christ in Hades. 

l'inw. "5 eta. 

MACKINTOSH, M. J. Woman in 

America. Cloth, 62 ets. ; paper, 3S cts. 

MAHONS (Lord) Histoiy of Eng- 
land. Edited by Trot". Reed. 2 Vols, 
Svo. $4. 

MICHELET'S History of France. 

2 Vols., 8vo. $3 50. 

Life of Martin Lu- 
ther. 12mo. 75 ots. 

History of Roman 

Republic. 12mo. sfcl. 

The People. 12mo. 

Cloth, 63 cts. ; paper, 3-< cts. 

MATTHEWS & YOUNG. Whist 

and Short Whist. ISmo. Cloth, gilt, 45 ots. 

MILES on the Horse's Foot; How 

to Keep it Sound. 12mo. Cuts. -25 cts. 

MILTON'S Paradise Lost 38 cts. 
MOORE, C. C. Life of George Cast- 
riot, King of Albania. 12mo. Cloth, $1. 
NAPOLEON, Life of, from the 

French of Laurent de l'Ardechee. & Vols, 
in 1. Svo. SOOCuts. lm.mor.,$3. 

OATES, GEO. Tables of Sterling 

Exchange, from £1 to .£10,000— from 1-Sth 
of one per cent, to twelve and a half per 
cent., by eighths, etc., etc. 8vo. $3. 

■ Interest Tables at 6 

per cent, per Annum. Svo. $2 

Abridged Edit $125. 

Interest Tables at 7 



per cent, per Annum. Svo. $2. 

— Abridged Edit $125. 
• Sterling Interest Ta- 



bles at 5 per cent, per Annum, from £1 to 
£10,000. 4to. (6. 
OCALLAGHANS History of New- 
York under the Dutch. 2 Vols. $6. 

POWELL'S Living Authors of 

England. ISmo. $1. 
REPUBLIC OF THE UNITED 

STATUS ; Its Duties, Ac. 12mo. $1. 

rfEID'S New English Dictionary, 

with Derivations. 12mo. $1. 
RICHARDSON on Dogs. Their 

Hist'>rv. I reatment, &c. Cuts. 25 cts. 

ROBINSON CRUSOE. Only com- 
plete Edition. 3:>0 Cuts 8vo, $150. 
BOWANS History of the French 

Revol ution. 2Vols.ini. 63 cts. 

BOYERS Modern Domestic Cook- 
ery. I2mo. Paper cover, 15 cts. ; bd., $1. 

SCOTT'S Lady of the Lake. 88 



SCOTT'S Mansion. 16mo. 37 ctu 

■ Lay of the Last Minstrel 

•25 cents, 
SELECT Italian Comedies. Trans- 
lated. 1 -in ». 15 fits. 

S PRAGUE'S History of the Florid* 

War. Ma;, and Plates. Svo. 

SHAKSPEARES Dramatic Work* 

and Life. ) Vol., Svo. |2. 
SOUTHEYS Life of Oliver Orom^ 

well. l8mo. C!otli, 38 cts. 

STE WARTS Stable Economy. Edit- 

ed bv A. B. Allen. 12mo. Illustrated. $1 

SOUTIIGATE (Bishop). Visit to 

the Syrian Church, lvrno. 11. 

SQUIER'S Nicaragua; Its People. 

Antiquities, <fcc. Maps and Plates. 2 Vols.. 
Svo. |S. 

STEVENS' Campaigns of the Rio 
Grande and Mexico. 8vo. Paper, 38 cts. 

SWETT, Dr. Treatise on the Dis- 
eases of lhe Chest, svo. $o. 

TAYLOR, Gen. Anecdote Book, 

Letters, &c. Svo. 25 cts. 

TUCKERMAN'S Artist Life. Bio- 

graphical Sketches of American Painters. 
12mo. Cloth, 75 cts. 

TAYLOR'S Manual of Ancient and 

Modern History. Edited by Prof. Henry. 

Svo. Cloth, -s-2 -25 ; sheep, *2 50. 

THOMSON on the Food of Animals 

and Man. Cloth, 50 cts. ; paper, 33 cts. 

TYSON, J. L. Diary of a Physician 
in Califo rnia. Svo. Paper, 25 ets. 

WAYLAND'S Recollections of Real 
Lite in England. ISmo. si cts. 

WILLIAMS' Isthmus of Tehuante- 

pec; Its Climate, Productions, «xc. Maps 
and Plates. 2 Vols., Svo. $3 50. 

WOMAN'S Worth; or, Hints to 
Raise the Female Character. ISmo. 38 cts. 

WARNER'S Rudimental Lessons in 

Music. ISmo. 50 cts. 

WYNNE, J. Lives of Eminent 

Literary and Scientific Men of America. 
12mo. Clpth, $1. 
WORDSWORTH, W. The Pre- 

hide. An Autobiographical Poem. 12mo. 
Cloth, |1. 

LAW BOOKS. 

ANTHON'S Law Study ; or, Guides 

to the Study of the Xaw. Svo. $3. 
HOLCOMBE'S Digest of the Dec) 

sions of the Supreme Court of the Unite* 
States, from its commencement to the pio- 
sent time. Large Svo. Law sheep, $6. 

Supreme Court Lead* 

ing Cases in Commercial Law. Svo. $4. 

Law of Debtor and 



Credit r in the United Slates and Cat adft, 
8vo. $4. 

SMITHS Compendium of Mercan- 
tile Law. With large American addition* 
bv Holcombe and Gholson. Svi. $4 60. 



I). Appleton do Company' & Publications. 

COLLEGE AND SCHOOL TEXT-BOOKS. 

Qfcxnk attfc 3Lattrt. 
ARNOLD'S First and Second Latin Book and Practical Gram 
mar. By Spencer. 12mo. 75 cents. 

■ First Latin Book. By Harkness. 12mo. 75 cU. 
%— — Latin Prose Composition. 12mo. $1. 

■ Cornelius Nepos. With Notes. 12mo. $1. 

■ First Greek Book. New Edition, revised. 75 cts, 

Greek Prose Composition. New Bevised Edition. 

12mo. 75 cents. 

■ ' Second Greek Prose Composition. 12mo. 75 cts. 

■ Greek Beading Book. Edited by Spencer. 12mo. 
$125. 

BOISE'S Exercises in Greek Prose Composition. 12mo. 75 cts. 
BEZA'S Latin Testament. 12mo. 62 cents. 
CiESAR'S Commentaries. Notes by Spencer. 12mo. $1. 
CICEEO De Officiis. Notes by Thatcher. 12mo. 90 cents. 

Select Orations. Notes by Johnson. 12mo. $1. 

KENDRICK'S Greek Ollendorff. 12mo. $1. 

HORACE. With Notes, &c. By Lincoln. 12mo. $1 25 

KUHNER'S Elementary Greek Grammar. By Edwards and 

Taylor. New improved Edition. 12mo. (In press.) 
LIVY. With Notes, &c. By Lincoln. 12mo. Map. $1. 
TACITUS' Histories. Notes by Tyler. 12mo. $1. 

-i- Germania and Agricola. Notes by Tyler. ISmo. 

62 cents. 

XENOPHON'S Memorabilia. Notes by Bobbins. New Re- 
vised Edition. 18mo. (In press.) 

GESENIUS' Hebrew Grammar. Edited by Eodiger. Translated 
from the best German Edition, by Conant. 8vo $2. 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: May 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 152 985 7 % 



